So many paths that wind and wind
by thesamecoin
Summary: The story of how a prince became a king, how a handmaiden became a lady, how a foe became a friend, how a boy became a beast...how a magician became a warlock. This is the story of how history became legend.
1. Prologue

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: This story is co-authored by two huge Merlin fans. The idea came to us when we were on a train from Nice to Paris (just like JKR had the idea for Harry Potter on a train!). Visiting Pierrefonds inspired us even further. We have attempted to follow each of the character's journeys to the end by using some of the spoilers we heard about Season 3, but mostly our own imaginations. We have planned out the entire story from beginning to end which will unfold in roughly 30 chapters, so stick with us and we hope you will enjoy reading it as much as we have writing it! :)_

_This story is set a year after the events of The Last Dragonlord._

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**Prologue**

"So many gods, so many creeds, so many paths that wind and wind while just the art of being kind is all the sad world needs."

~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

* * *

_The sunlight trickled through the branches of the trees, leaving the forest in shadows. A twig snapped, silencing the sounds of the forest. A young boy stepped into the clearing and his icy blue eyes immediately fell on the object that had been calling to him. He moved forward cautiously towards the gigantic egg and he placed his hand on the shell. The voice in his head became clearer than ever before._

"_At last, you have come." _

_And the egg began to crack._

* * *

_Guinevere walked briskly through the street, clutching a basket with herbs that Gaius had requested. Ever since Morgana had left, Gwen's role had changed considerably in the castle. She was now indispensable to Gaius as his assistant and Gaius often joked that she was much more useful than Merlin anyway. Merlin had little time for anything but helping Arthur with his increased responsibilities. _

_As she passed the training ground on the way to the castle, her eyes involuntarily searched for the young prince as they always did these days. When her eyes finally found him, he was already looking at her. He smiled at her briefly and then continued to correct Sir Caradoc's stance. She blushed and hurried on. _

* * *

_Two women walked along a dusty road, their cloaks flowing behind them. The fair-haired one lifted her arm and pointed to a man rushing home from work._

"_That one."_

_Morgana closed her eyes and furrowed her brows in concentration. "The man has a wife and two sons. The youngest one is ill," she said after a short pause. _

_As the man approached his hut, his wife came to greet him with a wailing baby in her arms and a young boy holding her skirts trailed behind her. The man bent over the baby with concern and put his hand on the baby's forehand. He handed the small potion bottle he had been carrying to his wife._

_Morgause nodded and took Morgana's hand. _

"_You are ready, sister."_

_

* * *

_

_Arthur continued to watch his knights train, but his thoughts were far away. Uther had commanded him again just this morning to take another search party, this time to the eastern borders, to search for Morgana. Although nearly a year had passed since her disappearance, Uther's resolve to find her had not diminished. Arthur was worried at the toll that Morgana's absence was having on his father. He did not want to give up hope that Morgana would be found, but resources were strained. News had reached Camelot that a large band of magicians had gathered under the banner of Alvarr, a rebel he had encountered before. Arthur knew that his army would have to set out any day now for war and though he was confident in his knights' abilities, he wasn't about to take any chances. _

"_Pick up the pace and look sharp, you clotpoles!" _

_Arthur smiled inwardly at the fact that he was now borrowing insults from his servant._

* * *

_Merlin collapsed on his bed in relief since Arthur had run out of things for him to do and had instead moved on to torturing the knights. He picked up the book that Gaius had given him so long ago and flipped through it though he knew he had mastered every spell in it. He knew that he would have to use not only the spells in this book, but also the spells that he had created himself through experimentation in order to help Arthur defeat Alvarr's armies. _

_It wasn't just Alvarr that worried him. Truth be told, Merlin was more concerned about stirrings of magic, more powerful than he had ever felt before. His attempts to uncover the source of this magical disturbance in his surroundings had been unfruitful. A part of him wished that he could run down to the dungeons to consult Kilgharrah, who he knew would have the answers. _

_But this time, he was truly on his own._


	2. Chapter 1

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

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**Chapter 1**

"There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered."

~ Nelson Mandela

* * *

Morgana had never looked so neglected. Her clothes were frayed, her hair was disheveled, her milk-white complexion was marred by dirt. However, appearances were deceiving - she had never felt more cared for than in this past year.

Morgana scooped up some mud from the ground and began to rub it on her arms. She had only one objective and to meet that, certain disguises were necessary. As she stepped barefoot over a stream, she examined her reflection in the water. With a tilt of her head, she took up the edge of her dress and tore it. _That should complete the look_.

The morning patrol was underway and Sir Tor was frustrated. Not only was the army leaving for war the next day, but he also had to attend a banquet send-off and on top of it all, he had been put in charge of morning patrol. Which he didn't really think was necessary at this time.

The knights turned their heads suddenly and unsheathed their swords when they heard a rustle in the bushes. Disarrayed and unkempt, a dark-haired lady stepped into the clearing and approached them with faltering steps.

Sir Tor kept his sword out and demanded to the stranger. "Who are you and what is your business in Camelot?"

One of the knights dropped his sword and exclaimed, "Lady Morgana!"

Sir Tor rushed forward to support the Lady who looked near exhaustion. As he held her, she looked up at him and said in a feeble voice. "At last, I am home." And with that, she fainted.

* * *

Merlin paced back and forth at the foot of the staircase leading to Morgana's chambers. The entire castle was bustling with news of the Lady's mysterious return. Uther had declared the send-off banquet as also a celebration of Morgana's homecoming. The servants were moving about with joy to prepare for the evening's festivities. Arthur and his knights took the return of Morgana as a good omen and were doing their last minute training with renewed vigor.

Merlin was feeling removed from the surrounding atmosphere of jubilation. He was relieved to see her alive, but his next thought was fear of what this meant for him and for Camelot. At the same time, Merlin was consumed by guilt of what he had done to her.

He looked up to see Gwen descending. "How is she? Has she said anything?"

Gwen looked happy, but also slightly anxious. "Gaius is talking to her now." Gwen took Merlin's arm and said, "But Merlin, she doesn't remember anything! The last thing she recalls is everyone falling asleep before the Knights of Medhir came. She needs to rest now, but Gaius thinks she will be well enough to attend the banquet this evening."

"Aren't you to stay with her?" Merlin asked.

"I'm going to fetch her some food from the kitchens. You didn't bring her flowers this time, Merlin?"

Merlin knew she was teasing him, so he forced a grin and she smiled knowingly at him before heading off to the kitchens.

* * *

The trumpets sounded as Uther entered the hall with Morgana on his arm. Amidst cheerful applause, Uther walked to the head table where Arthur was already waiting. Arthur smiled at Morgana warmly and Uther patted his ward's arm as he turned to address the gathering of nobles and servants alike.

"My dear subjects and friends, I had never dreamed that today would be so joyful a day. My ward, the Lady Morgana, was finally returned home to us. We have all missed her presence greatly in court." Uther reached for his goblet and raised it. "To the Lady Morgana!"

Everyone drank to the King's words and Morgana smiled affectionately at the crowd. Uther continued to speak. "It is my hope that her arrival will inspire our army to defeat Alvarr and his magicians. I have no doubt that victory will come swiftly our way since our armies vastly outnumber his. But this is not the end in the fight against magic, my people. The witch Morgause should not go unpunished for kidnapping my ward."

At these words, Morgana looked up sharply at the King. Merlin caught the look and this made him nearly spill the wine he was pouring for some of the nobles. He barely registered the next few words of what Uther was saying.

Uther raised his arms. "Let the banquet begin," he declared. Uther clapped Arthur's shoulder on the way to his throne and Morgana took her place at Uther's right.

The servants entered the hall with large platters of food and the musicians began to play a cheerful melody. Soon, everyone was engrossed in conversation.

Uther turned to his son. "I have full confidence in your men. Show those vile magicians no mercy, Arthur. We should never be troubled by them again."

Arthur twirled his crown in his hands and he looked up at his father, noticing that a weight seemed to have been lifted off his shoulders with Morgana's return. "Yes, my lord. I will do my best," he said.

Uther surveyed the hall and said, "I know you will look after your men. But, look after yourself too." He drank from his goblet, finally met Arthur's eyes and lowered his voice. "I'm proud of you, my son. Never forget that."

Arthur nodded and noticed Morgana's gaze on them. "At least Morgana will be here to keep you in line when I'm away, Father."

Uther chuckled and squeezed Morgana's hand.

A nobleman approached the head table and began a discussion with Uther about some complaints the commoners had about the crop divisions. Arthur's eyes followed the servants as they moved from table to table. He absent-mindedly stood up and excused himself saying he needed rest.

Merlin watched as Arthur left the hall. He looked at Morgana again and her eyes were downcast. For the first time, even in her bejeweled cream dress, she looked like she didn't belong in the chair that she had previously occupied countless times.

She suddenly looked up directly at him and before Merlin could look away, she gestured him to her table.

_It's now or never, Merlin. _Merlin let out a deep breath and walked forward. He felt as though time itself had slowed down, even though he hadn't done any magic. Through the corner of his eyes, he noticed Gwen leaving the hall and some drunken noblemen who had begun to sing.

"Have you been avoiding me, Merlin? Why haven't you come to see me?" Her smile was wide and innocent, but Merlin had never felt more uncomfortable in the presence of the lady.

She raised her glass so Merlin could pour her more wine. "I didn't want to disturb you while you rested, my lady. Also, I've been busy preparing to leave for tomorrow's battle."

"You are truly a servant of Camelot. You always do whatever it takes to keep Camelot safe, Merlin."

Although her tone indicated admiration, Merlin sensed a shadow cross her face as she spoke. Merlin ignored the voice of doubt in his head and tried to speak warmly. "I thank you for your kind words. I'm happy to see you are safe, my lady."

She dismissed him with a nod and he walked away slowly. He paused at the doorway and chanced a glance back in her direction, only to notice that her gaze was still on him.


	3. Chapter 2

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

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Chapter 2**

"There is nothing in the world so wonderful as to love and be loved; there is nothing so devastating as love lost."

~ Unknown

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* * *

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_The first time he saw her he nearly forgot to breathe. He had never expected her to be so beautiful – the sunlight filtering through the Great Hall's stained glass windows fell on her golden locks. Her brother led her towards him and placed her hand in his. She bowed her head and looked up at him shyly with keen blue eyes, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks._

_"__May I present to you my sister - your future bride," Tristan Dubois said. _

_His eyes never left her as he replied, "I am honoured to accept your sister as my bride. I am certain that this alliance between the Pendragon and Dubois families will be long and prosperous." _

_The Great Hall filled with tumultuous applause and his eyes swept over the crowd. Every face in the hall was alight with happiness except for one … _

… _The last time he saw her he didn't want to breathe anymore. He vaguely heard his son wailing in the background as he watched his wife placed carefully into the coffin. Her serene and delicate features remained unchanged, but the blush that he was used to no longer stained her cheeks. _

_He felt as though his insides were being wrenched apart by guilt. _

_Her last words flashed in his mind. He was kneeling at her bedside, his face covered in tears, watching her life drain away. Her hand reached towards his face, trying to wipe away his tears. _

_Her feeble voice gave him even more pain. "I would gladly face my end for his beginning." _

_He could not speak, but he shook his head in anguish. _

_Her head fell back on the pillow. Her voice was barely a whisper now. "Grieve not, my lord. For you will always have something of mine with you. Grieve for me instead for I have nothing of yours to take with me."_

"YGRAINE!"

Uther awoke suddenly and sat up in his bed. He looked around, almost expecting her to still be there. The dream had been so vivid.

He let out a long breath shakily and said softly, "I will never leave you."

* * *

Guinevere was surprised to see her mistress still lying in bed at this late hour.

"My lady, is everything alright?"

Morgana looked weary, much like the mornings long ago when she used to wake from restless sleep. She smiled at Gwen. "I am just feeling tired, that's all. Would you be able to get me some tea?"

Gwen put down the sheets she had been carrying and plumped up Morgana's pillows. "Of course. Would you like me to call Gaius?"

Morgana was quick to reply. "No, no. I'll be fine."

* * *

Gwen hurried back from the kitchens with a fresh cup of tea. She took the shortcut through the courtyard to Morgana's chambers. The courtyard was bustling as usual. Some stable boys were leading the horses out for a walk and a few villagers were drawing water from the well. The only indicator that something was amiss in Camelot was the notable absence of knights.

Gwen heard a familiar voice as she passed the statue of the man on the horse at the foot of the steps.

"Guinevere, I've been looking for you."

Her back stiffened and she composed her face before she turned.

"Lancelot." He looked as though he had been well-cared for since they had last met, but his face bore a worried expression. She paused before she spoke again. "I must go to my lady's chambers." She turned again and began to walk up the stairs.

Lancelot was quick to catch up to her and he grasped her arm. "No wait, Guinevere. I must speak with you."

Gwen shook off his hand and then spoke coldly. "What are you doing here, Lancelot? You made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with us…with me."

He bowed his head. "I am sorry for leaving you, Gwen. I thought you would be happier and better looked after with him."

She stepped down towards him and her voice shook with anger. "But it was _you_ I wanted. And you left without asking me what _I_ wanted!"

He could not meet her eyes, and it was she who spoke again, her voice now more controlled. "I cursed you for many days after you left, but now I must thank you for leaving. For if you had not, I would not have recognized my love for..." Her voice trailed off as she glanced around the courtyard nervously.

"Prince Arthur was always worthy of your love." Lancelot finally looked her in the eye. "I wish you both much happiness."

"Thank you. But tell me, what is the real reason you are here?"

"I need your help once more, Gwen. Our last meeting inspired me to seek a better life… but that life is now endangered. The village where I made my home was attacked by magicians. The magicians led by Alvarr."

Gwen nodded, but she wasn't surprised, for Alvarr and his armies had attacked many outlying villages in the weeks leading up to the war.

Lancelot continued to speak. "I was sent by my village to Camelot to seek aid, but I have heard that Camelot is already at war. I now wish to fight for my village and villages like mine, Guinevere. They gave me refuge when none would have me. Will Arthur allow me to fight alongside him?"

Gwen knew that Arthur's first instinct would be to reject Lancelot's help and throw him to the wilderin, but she also knew that Arthur was a man of honour. He would allow any worthy man to fight if it were up to him.

Her voice softened. "Though to the world you may just be Lancelot, Arthur knows you to be a true knight. He will not turn you away."

"How will I find them?" Lancelot enquired.

Gwen pointed to the direction where supplies were waiting to be loaded onto a cart. "Some additional supplies are being sent since the war is continuing for longer than anticipated. You can join with their party when they leave."

Lancelot took her hand and kissed it. "Until we meet again, my lady."

Gwen gave a small smile. "I'm still not a lady, Lancelot."

"No, but one day you will be Queen."

* * *

Gwen was surprised to see Morgana out of her bed and standing at the window when she returned with the tea.

"Here's your tea, my lady. Are you feeling better?"

Morgana accepted the cup and gave Gwen a teasing smile. "It's a little cold, isn't it?"

Gwen blushed and began to make up Morgana's bed. "I'm sorry. Would you like me to get you another?"

Morgana shook her head and put her hand on Gwen's shoulder. "Though that might be a good idea. I'm sure you want to have a chance to be detained by him again."

The sheet that Gwen was holding fell to the ground unheeded. Gwen quickly picked it up and continued her chore pretending she hadn't heard anything.

"Come now, Gwen. I know I've been away and we haven't talked in a long time. But I'm still your friend and you know you can share with me." Morgana took a seat at her writing table and looked expectantly at Gwen. "Last I remember Sir Lancelot had eyes for you and you for him."

Gwen sighed. "It's not like that, Morgana. His village was attacked and he wanted to fight in the war. He only wanted me to direct him."

"So…your beloved is going to war." Morgana looked sympathetic and took a sip of her tea.

Without a pause, Gwen muttered instinctively. "My beloved is already at war." The minute the words left her mouth, she wished she had not spoken at all.

Morgana looked shocked. "How things have changed in one year!" She rose from her chair, took Gwen's hands and made her sit next to her on the bed. "Who is the lucky man, Gwen?"

Gwen's face reddened even more. "It's not important," she said anxiously.

"Okay, so you don't want to give up your secret. I'll just have to guess then!" Morgana looked happier than Gwen had seen her in a long time. Morgana continued, "I know you don't like the rough-tough type of men. So it isn't one of the knights…could it be…hmmm…_Merlin_?" Morgana spat his name out in a venomous tone, but Gwen was too mortified to notice.

"Not Merlin! I used to care for him in that way but now he's just a dear friend." Gwen hastily tried to change the subject. "I noticed all the knights are happy to have you back in court. Sir Tor was especially proud that he was the one to rescue you."

Morgana snorted. "Don't even try, Guinevere. Why are you so hesitant to tell me?"

"It's complicated, my lady."

"A marriage between a knight and a commoner is difficult, but it's not unheard of, Gwen," Morgana said reassuringly and then, she gave a short laugh. "It's not as if you are courting the Crown Prince!"

Gwen didn't know where to look. She suddenly felt like the Gwen of "old" and could not stop herself before words started spilling out of her mouth. "Who'd want to court Arthur? I mean I don't think… I don't mean to say…I'm sure plenty of people want to court him…he's quite lovely…Not that I think that personally or anything!"

Upon hearing her squeaky ramblings, the truth dawned on Morgana. "Guinevere! Arthur? _Arthur is your beloved?_" she exclaimed.

Gwen bit her lip helplessly, and Morgana stood up, taking Gwen's silence as a confirmation. She walked slowly to the dressing screen. _Why are you so surprised by this, Morgana? Don't you remember how Arthur rushed off to save her from Hengist, only you thought at the time it was because of you that he was going? You saw how shocked Gwen was when Arthur was philandering with Vivian, only at the time you were too lost in your own world to see her hurt. __How could you be such a fool, Morgana? It was right in front of your eyes this whole time...This couldn't be just a passing fancy of Arthur's – this is different. _Even in the few hours she had spent with Arthur since her return, she had known he was changed. In fact, he had been changing for a long time, even before she had left. _When he was vying for your attention, he was pompous and he goaded you relentlessly. And you miss that, don't you? Is it jealousy for his love and because you thought he still had feelings for you?_

Morgana knew clearly that she thought of Arthur in many ways: as a confidante, as a partner in crime, as a companion, as a friend…but not as a lover. _So, is it the fact that your maidservant has perhaps managed to command a greater affection from him than you could ever inspire? _She traced the pattern on the screen. _Or can it be that you feel even more displaced for you are no longer the true first lady of Camelot?_

Gwen cautiously approached Morgana and softly spoke. "I'm sorry…"

Morgana shook herself out of her reverie. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I just realized how long I have been away and I'm not just talking about this last year." Though she did not sound elated, Gwen felt that her tone was sincere.

"It's always been an honour to look after you, my lady. But it is my privilege that you are my closest friend." Gwen spoke shyly for she was unsure of whether she was overstepping her boundaries, but she continued anyway. "I've missed you, Morgana and I thank you for your understanding though I haven't been completely honest with you."

"Then we both have something in common." Morgana faced Gwen and took a deep breath. "Gwen – you have always protected me, sometimes from myself. I feel I owe you the truth." _Or whatever I can tell you of it. _

Gwen raised her eyebrows curiously, but remained silent allowing Morgana to continue.

"You remember better than anyone how I was always plagued by nightmares from childhood. They weren't dreams, Gwen, it was the truth I saw. It was the future that came to me in my dreams, but I feared to acknowledge it. Uther had always taught me that magic was an evil, and my fear of who I really was made me feel so alone." Catching Gwen's expression, Morgana added, "but you don't seem surprised by what I am telling you, Gwen."

Gwen's face held a tender expression and her tone was one of acceptance. "I always suspected…especially after the fire in your bedroom. And I remember how scared you were of the Witchfinder."

Morgana inclined her head and started to pace back and forth. "Yes, once I found out that I had magic from the Druids, I was afraid for my life. My home, my friends and even you, Gwen, became strangers to me. I briefly found solace after meeting Morgause. She gave me a bracelet, which kept my nightmares at bay."

A look of suspicion crossed Gwen's face. "Morgause? She kidnapped you! She even tried to bring about the downfall of Camelot!"

Morgana quickly countered, "Morgause had her reasons, but she has cared for me in the past year." Morgana stopped pacing and faced Gwen. "I told you when I returned that I remembered nothing from the past year. I could not say any more for Uther is still the king of this land. The truth is, Gwen, I wasn't kidnapped by Morgause. I _wanted_ to be there…I have been honing and learning about my magical skills with Morgause. She's…she's my half-sister."

"Your half-sister? Did she tell you that? How is that possible?" Gwen didn't give Morgana a chance to reply. "Morgana, it was so dangerous for you to stay there! Why didn't you come back to us sooner?"

"No, Gwen, you don't understand," Morgana said with a hint of impatience. "It was more dangerous for me to stay _here_ and not understand my magic. The fire, the nightmares...They were all signs that my magical energy was not being harnessed properly, and so it was appearing in raw and violent forms. Now that I know how to control my magic, I can use it for the greater good."

"What did you learn from Morgause?" Gwen asked inquisitively.

"Morgause taught me how to, at will, channel my powers to See and make others See their past, present and future."

"Does that mean you can see Arthur? Can you see if he's safe?" Gwen asked eagerly.

Morgana was disappointed because she knew she had to crush Gwen's hopes. "No, I'm sorry. I am unable to see out of Camelot. There is a very powerful protective barrier around the city's boundaries that prevents my Sight from penetrating beyond. I don't how this barrier came to be and I've been wondering who is responsible for it for they must be very powerful indeed."

Gwen sensed admiration and reverence in Morgana's speech. She felt a little disheartened because for a short moment she had dared to hope that she might finally know of Arthur's well-being. Gwen had a thousand more questions for Morgana and opened her mouth to speak when a knock on the door interrupted her.

"Enter," said Morgana.

The guard bowed at the doorway. "The King awaits your presence at luncheon, my lady."

"You better get dressed," Gwen exclaimed as the guard left the room.

Gwen picked out and helped Morgana into one of her dresses. As she was fastening the corset, she couldn't help but voice the most nagging question in her mind out loud. "It seems like you were happy with Morgause. Why did you return to this unsafe kingdom now?"

Morgana didn't respond for a long time. When she finally spoke, she chose her words carefully. "I learnt everything I could from Morgause…and Gwen, I truly missed the only home I've ever known."

* * *

Night had fallen over Camelot. Far from the night guard, deep in the forest, Morgana clutched her green cloak tightly to her body. She closed her eyes and reached with her thoughts to her half-sister.

Morgause's face appeared instantly in her mind's eye. "Morgana," she called. "I've been trying to communicate with you for so long."

"I haven't been able to go leave the castle, let alone go outside the magical barrier that protects Camelot…until now. Uther and his guards won't let me out of their sight." Despite the late hour and her weariness, Morgana smiled, taking comfort in seeing Morgause's face again.

"I am glad to see you are safe, Morgana. I have been keeping my mind open towards you so that you could communicate with me and I feared that something had gone wrong when I could not feel your mind connect to mine."

Hearing a step in the forest, Morgana quickly opened her eyes and checked to make sure no one was around. She closed her eyes again and Morgause's face swam into view.

Morgause spoke with urgency. "What of our plan? Have you begun your work?"

Morgana confirmed, "It has been hard for me to break Uther's mental barriers…"

Morgause interrupted her, "Are you going soft, Morgana? Have you forgotten what he did to our mother and all our kin? Have you forgotten how our mother suffered at his hands?"

"No! Of course not. Though it is draining me, I was finally able to get through to him. I promise you, sister, I will see our plan through to the end."

Morgause gave her sister an approving look because she sensed her resolve. "Good…Now, it's _his_ turn to suffer."

_

* * *

As Gorlois set off for battle, Uther came towards him to bid him farewell. Gorlois mounted his horse but then hesitated. "Uther, I fight in your name. But in return, you must make a promise to me. If anything should happen, look after my child. Though you have your grievances with Morgana's mother, she is all I have in this world."_

_Uther grasped Gorlois' forearm. "I know you will return. But fear not for Morgana. You have entrusted me with what is most precious to you – I will care for her as my own."… _

… _A girl of about ten years walked into the Council Chambers with her head held high. Uther moved forward, not knowing what to say. When her father had called for reinforcements, he had delayed in sending them…and they had not reached in time. _

_Uther had seen Morgana many times before, but it had never struck him just how much she resembled her mother. But her clear green eyes pierced him and they were her father's. Despite her proud pretense, Uther noticed her lip tremble. _

_He finally found his voice and knelt at her level. "This is your home now, child. I hope you will be happy here."_

_Morgana furiously blinked away her tears and looked up when a small boy with a mop of blond hair peeked around Uther's throne. _

"_Morgana," he said excitedly. "Father said you were coming!" He ran at her with his miniature sword and shouted, "ON GUARD!" Morgana easily ducked his blow and grabbed the sword from him, ignoring his protests. _

_Uther watched the scene play out and he felt regret that his new ward would be forced to grow up much faster than his son. And it was all his own fault. Her father was dead because of him._

For the second time in two nights, Uther awoke drenched in a cold sweat.


	4. Chapter 3

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"It's really amazing when two strangers become the best of friends, but it's really sad when the best of friends become two strangers."

~ Unknown

* * *

It was dusk when the supply cart entered the encampment. Lancelot leapt off and nodded his thanks to the driver. He navigated his way towards the centre of the camp looking for the prince's tent, but a small part of him hoped he could sneak into the battle without Arthur's approval.

As he approached the largest tent he spotted the familiar tall, lanky figure of Merlin. Lancelot felt relieved. "Merlin," he called.

Upon hearing his name, Merlin turned from feeding Arthur's horse. "Lancelot!" Merlin was astonished to see him. "What brings you here? Not that I'm unhappy to see you. We haven't had much luck here."

"I am here to fight." Lancelot noticed the horse nudging Merlin's hand, trying to get the rest of the hay.

"That's enough, Torrento. We can't go wasting all our supplies on you." Torrento kicked back in frustration and his hind leg knocked over a rack of swords waiting to be sharpened.

There was a resounding crash and Merlin cringed.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" Arthur emerged from his tent looking extremely annoyed and clutching his right shoulder, which was wrapped in a bandage. "Merlin, is that you again?'

Merlin snapped back irritably. "Why is it always me? It was your stupid horse."

Arthur was about to retort when his eyes fell on Lancelot.

Lancelot quickly bowed. "I am at your service, my lord. I have come prepared to fight for you."

"I don't need your help," Arthur said shortly.

"Actually we could use all the help we can get, Arthur," Merlin interjected.

"Merlin, why don't you go pick up those swords that you knocked over and leave the battle to me." Arthur turned back to face Lancelot.

There was an awkward pause as the two men sized each other up.

Merlin cleared his throat. "I'll just go pick up those swords then, shall I?" He walked off hastily, keen to get away from the situation.

"Sire, I know we may have our differences. But I must protect the people that have sheltered me. Alvarr's men raided our village to get food for his army. I know I am not a knight but you once said that I fight like one. I only ask that you give me a chance to fight for what I believe in."

Arthur shielded his eyes from the setting sun and watched the supply cart being unloaded. "Did you come with them? From Camelot?"

Lancelot nodded. "Yes, my lord. Gwen told me - " He stopped abruptly when he noticed Arthur's eyes snap back to his face. "I was told that you wouldn't turn me away," he finished and hoped that Arthur's innate nobility would triumph over his pride.

_Stupid fool. He thinks he can just waltz back in here and fight? He even had the audacity to speak with Guinevere after what he did to her... _Arthur's face reddened as he prepared to tell Lancelot off, but he could almost see Gwen shaking her head saying, "You're better than that, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur unclenched his fists. "Any news from Camelot, then?"

"The kingdom awaits the end of the war. Everyone is concerned that it is taking longer than expected."

Arthur scoffed. "Tell _them_ to come fight. We outnumber them three to one, we have better warriors, we have better strategies – but _they_ have magic."

"Then we need to end this war quickly before they gain more power and kill more of our army. Let me fight! Everyone would be delighted to see your return – _she_ would be overjoyed to see you come home. Let me help you!" Lancelot responded fervently.

Arthur looked over to Merlin who was clearly only pretending to listen to Sir Ykkin talk animatedly. _That eavesdropper, he's been listening to our entire conversation!_ Arthur easily caught Merlin's eye and Merlin gave him a small nod of encouragement.

Arthur rubbed his shoulder and started walking back towards his tent. "Tomorrow is going to be a long day. Get some rest so you can make yourself useful, Lancelot."

He entered the tent and lay back down on the cot, his head hitting the pillow with a thud. _That two-faced prat! Well...at least he came to offer his help…_ Arthur sighed. He tried to find a comfortable spot, but any position he lay in put pressure on his wounded shoulder. He had insisted to Merlin and the rest that it was nothing – he knew there were knights with far worse injuries that needed treatment. Although had Gwen been here, she would have had none of his pretences and would have insisted on him getting treatment saying that he couldn't possibly lead his men if he himself was hurt.

It had been three long weeks since he had left Camelot and everything he was fighting for seemed very far away. He'd never seen magic like this before and sometimes he even felt that fighting back was futile because it was only a matter of time before they won anyway. The only thing that kept him going was the fact that he could never let this magic, this destruction, this _evil_ reach back to Camelot.

When he was leaving he had never expected to be so overpowered. He had even jokingly told Guinevere to expect him back by the next day…

"_Guinevere, don't look like Merlin does when I tell him to muck out the stables." He cracked a joke, attempting to make her smile. He twirled a lock of her hair around his fingers._

_They had both snuck out of the banquet on the eve before battle and were now pressed into an alcove. Arthur had signalled to Gwen during the banquet because he knew that this was his chance to say goodbye to her, while everyone was busy merrymaking. _

_She took his hand and spoke gravely. "Be serious, Arthur."_

"_I am being serious! I'll be back by tomorrow. Tell the cook to make my favourite steak dumplings and I expect a reward for emerging victorious from you." He leaned in to kiss her but she turned her head and he got a mouthful of hair instead._

_She rolled her eyes and pushed him away with a playful shove. "Just listen to me for a minute. I am glad that you are confident in your knights, but don't underestimate the magicians. I know your men would gladly give their lives for you, but make sure that they don't do so in vain."_

"_Yes, yes. And I'll be careful too. I'll look after Merlin. I'll make sure I eat on time. Blah. Blah. Blah." Arthur replied in a singsong voice. _

_Gwen tried one last time to get through to him. She took his face in her hands and said passionately, "If you want that reward, Arthur Pendragon, your big head better still be attached to your shoulders when you come back home!" And with that, she kissed him ardently. _

_When they finally broke apart, Arthur roguishly grinned at her forwardness. But sensing her urgency, he adopted a solemn tone. "Nothing can stop me from returning to you."_

_

* * *

_

Merlin stood on top of a hill overlooking the battlefield. He had just taken over as a lookout to see when Alvarr and his men would begin their next assault. It had been over a week since they had any wind of Alvarr mounting an attack. Merlin was extremely surprised by this because during their last encounter a little while after Lancelot had arrived, the magicians had reduced their army to a mere fraction of the original that had set out from Camelot.

The only reason Merlin was left on guard duty was because it was night-time and no one thought that anything of importance was going to happen.

_Why haven't they come back to deal the final blow? _Merlin wondered suspiciously. The only reason the knights had even made it this far was because he had been darting around placing protective charms on any knight of Camelot he could reach. Even though it was costing Merlin a great deal of energy, the charms were only temporary. He had to keep renewing the shielding charms several times a day during battle.

Merlin was now afraid of doing much more than protective charms in fear of being discovered by knights and magicians alike. He had tried a few of his new invented spells on the magicians, but to no avail. The remaining magicians had been able to counter the effects of his spells. _Five, six magicians I can handle. But a hundred? I can't do this alone._

He was shaken from his thoughts when he saw a large shadow materializing on the battlefield - it was approaching much too fast.

"_Lócaféah_." Merlin's eyes flashed yellow and he was able to see what the shadow actually was. Cold, unadulterated fear gripped his heart.

Merlin ran.

* * *

Arthur was staring moodily into the flames while the few remaining knights ate their meagre dinner, sitting idly around the fire. They all looked up when they heard Merlin's shout.

"ARTHUR!"

Arthur quickly jumped up and drew his sword. Merlin appeared looking like death was upon him.

"They're back! And they're brought all the creatures of hell with them! Griffins, cockatrices, chimeras, trolls, giants…I could go on…"

The knights rose, turning to Arthur for directions, but the fear that was on Merlin's face had passed to theirs.

"Prepare for battle, men!" Arthur commanded. His voice was a little shaky, but it was firm.

Merlin came closer to Arthur, shaking his head in disbelief. "Arthur, this is madness. There are TOO many of them. They outnumber us at least five to one now. And with these creatures, we'll be slaughtered where we stand."

Arthur picked up his shield. "I've never turned my back on battle and I don't intend on starting now."

"Do you trust me?"

Arthur looked up and said, "Is this really the time to feel insecure, Merlin? We've been through enough together – I trust you with my life."

"Then listen to me now." Merlin spoke beseechingly. "I saw them – we don't have much time. They are moving unnaturally fast. You've got to protect these knights, they are all that's left of Camelot's once finest army. We need more supplies, we need more resources, we need more men! We need to retreat!"

Arthur looked torn.

"It's not cowardice, Arthur – it is wisdom."

Arthur put his sword back in his sheath. "Knights!" At once, the knights surrounded Arthur waiting for instructions. "Today we have no choice. We have to retreat. We have lost the battle but we won't give up on the war. Help the injured knights onto your horses – we must leave IMMEDIATELY."

Merlin watched Arthur and all the knights scatter in different directions. He was the only one left at the fire around which the army had lazed, just seconds ago. He knew that they had little time – if any. He watched the flames rise. A voice through generations reverberated in his mind. _But you can give them more time_. He clambered up the same hill that he had rushed down moments before, not looking behind him.

When he reached the top, he saw that Alvarr's menacing army had almost reached the foot of the hill. Merlin's fear was replaced by fury.

"_ÁNDAGIAN_!" Merlin disappeared where he stood and appeared almost instantaneously at the base of the hill.

Over the clamouring of the army approaching, there was a deafening roar.

"HALT!" The army parted as Alvarr emerged from their ranks riding on a black winged horse – a Pegasus. "Silence!" A hush fell over beast and magician alike. "Who are you, magician? You have come at an opportune moment to join us," Alvarr said carelessly.

Merlin's blue eyes glowed eerily. "It is no wonder that magicians have a bad name in Camelot. You attack in the middle of the night, with no warning and no scruples whatsoever."

"We used to have scruples but Uther has left us without any. You, boy, are too young to remember," replied Alvarr, full of rage.

"For weeks you have tormented the defenseless knights of Camelot with magic because you knew you couldn't win without." _It had to come to this – I tried not to use magic to kill but this is not a fair fight!_ Merlin's voice shook with anger. "I would rather see Uther rule Camelot for a hundred more years than see you to be the one to return magic to the kingdom."

Alvarr laughed derisively. "And you think _you_ will stop me?"

"You leave me no choice, Alvarr."

Alvarr raised his hand and gave a cruel smile. "Kill him."

As the creatures rushed at him, Merlin closed his eyes and began to chant. "_Forbiernan Fýrdraca. Forbiernan Fýrdraca. Forbiernan Fýrdraca._" Even Merlin was surprised to hear that each time he repeated the spell, his voice was strengthened by the echoes of past Dragonlords.

He raised his hand slowly and the army was forced back – an enormous flame dragon emerged from his hand. The wingspan of the creature was as expansive as the width of Alvarr's army. The dragon's eyes were as black as coals and his entire body was ablaze with orange and red flames.

The same flame seemed to glimmer in Merlin's eyes when he finally opened them. Merlin heard his father's voice. _You must command it to do your bidding, Merlin. _

Through the fire-dragon, he saw confusion, hysteria and most of all, fear in Alvarr's army.

When the Dragonlord spoke again, it was with the authority and knowledge of all his predecessors. "Burn, dragon! _ÁBEORNAN_!"

* * *

Arthur led the knights away from the encampment, deep into the nearby forest. The many injured knights, who were on horseback, hindered their progress.

Suddenly, Arthur reined in his horse. "Where's Merlin?"

The knights looked around and Sir Leon shrugged his shoulders. "I haven't seen him, sire…since we left the camp."

"He must have fallen off his horse or something. I'd better go get him," said Arthur with frustration. He addressed Leon, "I will meet you at the Callouyr River beyond the forest. Make haste!"

Sir Leon started to protest. "But sire…"

Arthur had already started to gallop away. He shouted over his shoulder. "JUST GO, Leon!"

Arthur traced their path all the way back to the deserted encampment – Merlin was nowhere to be seen. "MERLIN!" Arthur yelled.

In response, he heard nothing but the sounds of Alvarr's army on the move. He started to panic, as they seemed to be very close. "MERLIN!" he bellowed in desperation.

Beyond the hill, everything went quiet. _What's going on there? _Arthur dismounted his horse and scaled the hill as noiselessly as possible. He scrambled to his feet, behind a bush, at the summit.

He could not have been more surprised at the sight that met his eyes. Merlin stood, separated by Alvarr's army, by a giant fire-dragon. Merlin's hand was raised and he said something that Arthur could not make out.

He had no trouble hearing Merlin's next word.

"_ÁBEORNAN_!" Merlin commanded in a thunderous voice.

All of a sudden, the dragon's mouth opened wide and started to spew fire in every direction. Arthur was numb with shock as he watched Alvarr's army completely at the dragon's mercy, but the dragon had none. The flames, the heat and the smoke consumed the magicians and the magical creatures as they tried to flee. They stood no chance against the fiery creation. Within minutes, the entire army had been reduced to ashes. Not a single soul was spared.

The lone figure on the battlefield lowered his hand slowly and fell to his knees in what appeared to be exhaustion. The dragon flickered out at once.

Arthur finally found movement return to his limbs. His legs moved automatically as he sprinted down the hill towards Merlin. He now had his head in his hands and his shoulders rose and fell with heavy sobs.

"MERLIN!" Arthur skidded to a stop a few paces away from his manservant who picked himself up shakily when he heard his name.

As Merlin turned to face the prince, he knew there was no escaping the truth – Arthur had seen everything. He steeled himself for the inevitable.

Arthur voice was low and dangerous. "What the _hell _was that?"

Merlin could not muster up enough energy to even respond properly. "Arthur…" he began. His voice was frail, but he took a few steps towards Arthur. Merlin was covered in soot from head to foot and on his face, the soot was mingled with tears.

Arthur was livid. "You hypocrite! This whole time you have been one of _them_! Why are you even here? Why are you on my side? Are you even on my side?" He threw down his sword. "Go on, then. Attack me! Finish me off like you finished them."

Arthur's words struck a chord with Merlin and years of pent-up frustration, anger and humiliation seemed to fuel energy into his veins. "You really think that you would still be here if I wanted to attack you? I've saved your life today – and I've done it so many times before that I've lost count."

The few remaining flames blazed higher with Merlin's fury.

Arthur was overwhelmed and he dealt with it the only way he knew how – by lashing out. "Why did you do all of this?" he asked viciously.

"You think it was my choice?" Merlin snapped. "If it wasn't for that bloody dragon…"

"What? There are more dragons?" Arthur asked sarcastically.

"Forget it! You won't understand."

"Try me," said Arthur with a sneer. "Do you think I'm too thick to understand your _huge_ problems?"

"You don't get it, do you? You don't know what it's been like hiding who you are all the time from everybody. And on top of it, I've had to save your life every time you rush after a griffin or joust against an assassin."

"Then why did you even help me?" Arthur's face was impossible to read.

Merlin felt blood pounding in his ears and he was so angry that he couldn't even speak. He took a deep breath and controlled himself. His fury was restrained, but his voice was still bitter when he spoke. "When I first came to Camelot, I learned that it is my destiny to protect you. To make sure that you became King – the King who would unite all of Albion. The King who would return magic to Camelot."

Arthur had never felt so powerless in his life. He had always believed that he was the one in control of his own destiny, but now…

To find out that there were forces beyond his comprehension that had placed even greater responsibilities on his shoulders. To find out that all of his brave deeds were nothing but a magician's interventions. To find out that the magician was his servant…And to find out that the servant, his best friend, had forced him to live a lie.

Arthur felt numb - as numb as he had when he saw Merlin using magic from atop the hill. Though they were now much closer, there was still a wall between them. Their worlds had collided and in the collision, they had destroyed everything in their wake. They had destroyed a friendship.

The smoke from the battlefield still swirled in the night sky.

As Merlin watched Arthur struggling with his thoughts, his defiance slowly ebbed away. He knew that his destiny still lay with Arthur, no matter how separate they felt at the moment.

"You have betrayed me," Arthur said quietly.

Merlin cringed, but said with resignation, "I am sorry...This is who I am. How could I have told you when magic is banned and when you hate magic? I hoped that in time you would be able to understand and accept magic as a reality…and in turn, accept me."

"If you had told me earlier, you know I wouldn't have told my father," Arthur said.

"But you wouldn't have embraced me either."

Arthur had to acknowledge that what Merlin said was true. Arthur did not speak for some time while Merlin stood awkwardly, shifting the weight between his feet.

Arthur spoke evenly without expression. "You served me well, but I don't know how I can trust you anymore." He turned his back to Merlin. "I have always been honest with you and now you tell me that you are someone I never knew."

"Without your trust, I cannot act by your side."

"Without you, I may finally see my true worth."

"Then I will leave…until I can earn back your trust, my lord."

Arthur sensed a deep sadness in Merlin's voice and he turned back around. "Mer-" he began. But Merlin was gone.

He slowly stooped to pick up his sword.

He had come in search of a lost friend, but had lost himself in the process.


	5. Chapter 4

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"In youth it sheltered me, and I'll protect it now."

~ George Pope Morris

* * *

It was nearing the witching hour as Morgana tossed restlessly in her bed. The moonlight fell on her dark tresses and made the beading on her cream nightgown shimmer.

She threw the blankets off and sighed in frustration. She was exhausted, but could not sleep. She had goose bumps on her arms, but her brow was feverish.

Morgana was startled and clutched the blankets to her when she heard the door creak open. She sat up quickly.

"Gwen?" she called uncertainly, as she squinted to see through the darkness.

The moonlight upon the intruder cast a shadow and Morgana swiftly reached for the dagger at her bedside.

"Who are you?" She tried to sound more threatening than she felt. Morgana's breathing quickened and she could barely hold the dagger as her hand shook.

Morgana knew it was a man, but she could not make out much more. Through the drapes, she saw the dark outline of the man wave his hand casually. At once, the candles in the room flickered to life.

The light illuminated his features and though they were unfamiliar to her, she felt as though she'd seen him before. He was of about Arthur's height, but his clothes, unlike the prince's, were modest. He seemed to be only a few years younger than she.

The unknown man took a step towards her tentatively. Morgana instinctively gripped the sheets and moved backwards, away from the stranger. Her back hit the headboard of her bed. She opened her mouth to scream.

As quick as a flash, his left hand clamped over her mouth. His right gently pried away the dagger from her grip.

She was terrified. She wanted to struggle, but she was already so drained. Her eyes searched his face in terror. His dark hair had fallen into his eyes and he shook it away carelessly. Her green eyes met his icy blue ones and to her astonishment, she saw only affection in his gaze.

"It is I, Morgana. It's Mordred."

_

* * *

Tristan walked proudly into the arena where Uther stood waiting. He could not hide his devastation when he said, "Uther, you will pay for what you have done to my sister!" He swung his blade furiously, but it was reckless. _

Uther dodged. "I don't want to fight you, Tristan." But Uther was forced to defend himself. He swung his sword with all his might - it met nothing but air.

Uther blinked and his bedroom came into view. He began to pace, but something else caught his eye.

_Nimueh, his oldest friend, stood in the corner of the Council Chamber with her head bowed. "My king, I am gravely sorry for your loss."_

Uther growled at the empty corner. "It's all your fault. She's gone – dead because of you! Get out of my sight!"

He blinked once more and yelled in frustration. _What is happening to me? _ Uther knew his body was wasting away as he could not eat, sleep or get respite from these visions, from these memories that were haunting him.

_Uther paced in his bedroom. His wife's death had shed light on one truth. Magic was evil. His two-day-old son was sleeping peacefully among the pillows with his thumb in his mouth. Uther knew that he had to protect him from the havoc that magic could wreak. He made up his mind._

Uther strode to the doors and threw them open.

The guard outside jumped in surprise. "My lord, are you well?"

"Call for a council meeting at once. We must destroy all the magicians in Camelot!"

"But sire, it's the middle of the night. We just had a council meeting this afternoon, which you were too tired to attend." The guard was bewildered at the King's request for Uther had not been seen out of his chambers in nearly a week.

"SILENCE!" Uther roared. "I will have no more of this. GO! Summon everyone for the meeting immediately."

* * *

Morgana could not believe her eyes or ears. He removed his hand from her mouth and she spluttered, "Mordred? That's ridiculous…it cannot be."

"It's me, Morgana. The Druid boy who you risked your life to save. And I've found my way to you once more." His deep voice resonated with admiration.

Morgana was frozen in incredulity. "I must be dreaming! How could you possibly be Mordred? He's just a boy…"

Morgana did not know why she did not attempt to call for help. It was perhaps for the same reason that she had not alerted the guards when Merlin had once brought a young Druid boy into her chambers. She felt the same connection to this man, and though he was unknown to her, she instinctively knew that she was in no danger.

"I _was _just a boy. It's a long story." Mordred was still standing over her, but he bent his head and looked into her eyes intently. "I know I look changed in appearance, but it's still me."

She was still looking at him in disbelief, until she heard his voice clearly in her head. "Search your heart, Morgana, you know it's me."

Morgana couldn't explain how she knew, but there was no doubt in her mind now.

She drew her knees close to her chest and patted the bed, smiling at him warmly. "Sit, Mordred. Tell me everything."

He sat down slowly and returned her smile shyly. "I don't know where to start."

"Last I saw you, we had been separated because of Uther's desire to regain the crystal. I was worried about you when Arthur and his men attacked Alvarr's camp. I am sorry that I couldn't help you."

"You are not to blame. I fled from the camp easily. But I will not lie - I was all alone and that scared me." He looked away and fumbled with his traveling cloak. "Every guardian I have had has left me…save for you." He looked back at her and gave her a small smirk. "You can see now that I am in little need of a guardian."

Morgana was enthralled by his newfound confidence that had accompanied his physical transformation. She was full of wonder. "What happened to you? How did you mature so fast?"

Mordred stood up and began to stride around the room as he told his story. "A few weeks after I was parted from Alvarr, I was wandering through the forests near Cenred's kingdom and I came across a huge egg that seemed to call to me. It was just lying in the forest, forgotten. I have often been in those forests before, but I had never felt any pull like this. As soon as I touched the egg, it began to crack. It was a dragon egg!"

Morgana gasped. "A dragon egg? But I thought that all dragons had been killed long ago. The only dragon that I have heard of attacked Camelot soon after I left."

"Well…this one was probably abandoned, waiting for the right time to hatch...After the dragon hatched, I was able to look after it because I could hear other voices – previous masters of dragons, telling me what to do. The pull I felt towards the dragon egg intensified a thousand-fold every day that I was with the creature. I could hear it speaking to me and it…became a kind of companion." Mordred saw that Morgana's face was lit up with curiosity and interest. "The more time I spent with him, the more connected our minds became. I used to fly with him everyday though he wasn't very big yet, but then again, neither was I. Each day I learnt new things about my power over the dragon. One day, I reached into his mind as an experiment and after that, I could no longer separate my thoughts from his – there was no barrier between his mind and mine. It was as though I was thinking the dragon's thoughts before they were even communicated to me."

Mordred took a breath and stood with a little more self-assurance than before. He knew that Morgana was impressed by what he was telling her and why shouldn't she be? Not many people had his power, but he knew for certain that he was unique in what he accomplished next.

"I was now able to control its mind, but I wanted to have limitless control over the creature - I knew I could do so much more with my talents. Though its mind was mine since it couldn't do anything without my will, that wasn't enough. I delved deeper…into the dragon's very soul itself. Our hearts began to beat as one and I could almost see a thread connecting my heart to his." Mordred broke off, an almost manic gleam glinting in his eyes – a look that Morgana did not catch.

"But Mordred, couldn't that destroy you both? Isn't that dangerous?" Morgana had first felt awed by his clearly superior powers, but now she was concerned for him.

"Don't worry, Morgana. I could not be destroyed by that creature," he said dismissively. "It doesn't even bother me that I stopped hearing the guidance of the dragon masters because I am never truly alone now."

Morgana looked around, almost expecting to see a dragon's face at the window. "Where _is_ the dragon?" she asked. Morgana felt decidedly unsettled.

Mordred looked straight into her eyes.

"I _am _the dragon."

* * *

Gaius yawned as he walked into the Council Chambers. He could not imagine why Uther had summoned a meeting at this ungodly hour.

Nearly the entire court was present, looking drowsy and confused.

Uther was in the centre of the room at the head of the table, looking anything but groggy. He was talking to someone, though Gaius could not see whom. He moved closer to announce his presence when he noticed that no one was engaged in conversation with Uther. The King was talking to thin air.

"The dragon attacks relentlessly and will be back for more. Arthur has gone to find the Dragonlord, but I do not know if he will have much luck. Until he returns, you must do your duty to your land." Uther spoke indifferently, the usual manner by which he always gave orders.

Everyone close to Uther looked frightened and did not dare say a word.

But Gaius hadn't seen the King in weeks and took it upon himself to discover the truth behind Uther's deranged behaviour.

"Sire, the dragon is long gone. Are you feeling unwell? May I check your pulse?" Gaius reached forward, but Uther strode off towards a window.

"Gaius, you have arrived at last." Uther's shoulders were slumped and he spoke in a somber tone.

"Yes, I -," Gaius began to speak, but Uther continued without pause.

"How is Arthur? Can you heal him? I know you said the Questing Beast's bite is lethal…yet I have faith in you."

Gaius looked around at the courtiers. They all wore similar expressions of alarm – a look that Gaius knew was mirrored on his face too. _It is clear that Uther is suffering from hallucinations. _He started to hear the courtiers mumble and he drew closer to Uther, taking in his ragged appearance. _It's not just his hallucinations that are worrying. He looks to have lost weight, there are black circles under his eyes, his cheeks are sunken and his skin saggy. His life seems to be draining away from him. But how can I help when Uther has banned anyone from entering his chambers and has stayed out of the public eye for weeks?_

However, Uther was not the only patient that Gaius was not allowed to see. Guinevere had mentioned that the Lady Morgana had also been getting weaker, but she had insisted that she did not require Gaius' help. Though Gaius could not prove any connection between the two ailments, he had an inkling that they were somehow related.

"Return to your homes. The King is unwell. He will address the matter when he recovers." Gaius waited for the hall to empty before he placed his hand on Uther's arm.

"Sire, come…you must rest."

Uther's eyes were wildly roaming around the room and Gaius heard him muttering under his breath. But the King allowed himself to be led away by the trusted court physician.

* * *

Morgana was speechless.

Mordred launched further into explaining his transformation upon seeing Morgana's dumbfounded expression. "When our souls were joined through my magic, we ceased to exist as separate entities and unified as one. I was able to shapeshift into the dragon. And now, I can turn into the dragon at will." Mordred felt a mixture of pride and power as he saw Morgana's eyes look at him with respect for his achievement, as though he were _more_ than her equal.

Mordred continued, leaning back against her dresser. "We grew together…the dragon and I. My guardians often said that my mind was much older than my years. And because dragons reach full maturity by one year's end, I too reached the point where finally my body has caught up with my mind."

Mordred shook himself and remembered why he had journeyed to Camelot. The corners of his mouth turned upwards. "As soon as I heard you were back in Camelot, I wanted to see you…and here I am."

Morgana blinked. Though she had taken in his words, she felt as if it was not real.

"Come to me, Mordred." Morgana beckoned to him. Her voice was a little shaky as she said, "I need to be sure that this is not my imagination."

Mordred strolled forward and knelt at her bedside. He was surprised when he felt her cold, soft hand brush his hair out of his eyes. Her hand lingered at his cheek and she lifted his chin up with her other hand.

"Look at you now. You're grown so big." Morgana tried to find traces of the young boy in his face. "You're so handsome…and I always knew that you were destined for great things. But I never expected it so soon. Mordred, I am so impressed…" Morgana felt something different in his gaze for a split-second before he rested his head on her lap.

"I've missed you, Morgana." His voice was husky with emotion.

She absent-mindedly stroked his hair with fondness. It had been so long since she had a companion who demanded nothing from her and with whom she did not have to pretend. "I wish you had been here, Mordred. So much has changed. I have spent the last year with my sister learning about my magic. You remember Aglain had guided me a little…I now am much more in control of my Seer abilities."

Mordred did not move his head, but she knew he was listening. "I returned to Camelot to finish the job I started." Morgana started speaking more rapidly as she felt more tense. "Uther has tirelessly persecuted our kind and now I am giving him a taste of his own medicine. I have the ability to See his past, present and future and I have flooded his mind with memories of his dark and horrid past. He is nearly finished – I have seen this and so, I have told my sister, Morgause, to come here."

Mordred raised his head and asked curiously. "But why does Morgause need to be here? Surely, if anyone should be here it should be Arthur, who I heard is away at war."

Morgana nodded and replied. "You're right. But Morgause will need to be here to guide Arthur and serve as a mediator of magic and non-magic peoples. It is our hope that Arthur shall return magic to this kingdom as King. It is _my _hope that Morgause will work at Arthur's side to bring peace and stability to our land."

Mordred rose abruptly, contemplating Morgana's words. "What guarantee do we have that Arthur will look favourably upon magic?"

Morgana was unhappy with his question and replied curtly. "Must I remind you that it was he that spared and saved your life, knowing that you possessed magic?"

Mordred was instantly apologetic. "Of course, Morgana. I am sorry for doubting you."

The first rays of sunlight were coming through her window and Morgana got to her feet unsteadily. Mordred rushed forward to support her, but she waved him off. She walked slowly towards the window. "You can see that using my magic is taking its toll on me. But soon, it will all be over for Uther. As you said, Arthur _should _be here and now that you have come, I must ask a favour of you."

"Anything."

Morgana looked beseechingly at him. "Arthur and his knights have been at battle for much longer than expected. I know that the opposing side is led by Alvarr, who has been a friend to both of us, but I do not support his claim to the throne over the Pendragons. Or his method of fighting for it."

Morgana paused.

She thought about how at one time she had been willing to risk her life to save Alvarr, but being with Morgause had cleared her head and made her see the truth. He had manipulated her feelings. In the past year, she had also heard news of his ruthless treatment of poor villagers that he had stolen food from. That was an alliance she would not renew.

Mordred, too, thought of Alvarr. Though Alvarr had found and protected him, he had also done so with an ulterior motive. Alvarr needed Mordred only because he had the power to wield the crystal. But Morgana…she always had his best interests at heart.

"As a dragon you will be able to reach Arthur faster than any messenger. Go to Arthur and bring him back to be King," finished Morgana.

She took off her emerald ring, one that she had since she was a child. "Show this to Arthur and he will know that you are my ally."

He took the ring from her and he kissed it. "If that is your wish, I will return with him." Mordred looked at her pensively. "Morgana, how did you get involved in all this?"

Morgana's face darkened. "I always wanted to end Uther's tyranny but I didn't have the courage or skill to…and when I was taken away from my home, it presented me with the opportunity to be myself. Not only that, Morgause saved my life and I am obliged to her…"

"Saved your life? Who would dare to hurt Uther's ward?" Mordred asked menacingly.

Morgana told Mordred what no one but Morgause knew. "_Merlin_. He poisoned me out of suspicion because I was the only one immune to Morgause's spell over Camelot…and if Morgause had not come in time, I would certainly not be here today."

Her words were laced in suppressed rage, but it was nothing compared to the rage that Mordred felt at that moment. The paintings on her wall began to shake violently.

"EMRYS!" he bellowed. His words were erratic. "He will…I vow to…I will destroy that…that…_coward_."

He did not give Morgana a chance to respond. He strode purposefully towards the window and jumped on the windowsill.

"What are you doing?" Morgana clutched his hand and looked up at his face anxiously.

He leaned over her and his thumb stroked her forehead for a brief moment. He placed a quick kiss on her temple. "Don't worry, Morgana. I am never going to let _anyone_ hurt you again."

Mordred threw himself out of the window and Morgana's heart nearly stopped beating. "MORDRED!" she screamed in shock.

As the sun rose in the distance, Morgana saw its orange rays marred by the wings of a black dragon. And Morgana's eyes watched as its once massive form became a speck as it disappeared into the distance.


	6. Chapter 5

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: We would like to thank everyone for all the lovely reviews so far - they really encourage us to continue writing and to do better for you all! :) We hope that more of our readers will review our story because we really value your input, and together we can make this story so brilliant the BBC will wish we were on their writing team!_

_In other words, pretty please with a cherry on top, do leave us a review...or else, no more chapters! Ha ha, j/k...or are we? ;)_

**

* * *

Chapter 5**

"She was practiced at the art of deception, well I could tell by her bloodstained hands"

~ The Rolling Stones

* * *

"Sire, we must stop and rest for some days. The injured cannot ride further just now. Their wounds are festering and there may be infections," said Leon cautiously.

It was important that the knights tread carefully around Arthur, for ever since the sudden disappearance of his manservant, the Prince had been in a foul mood.

They had all assumed when Arthur had returned alone from the battle scene that Merlin had been lost forever…what chance did he have against those magicians? Arthur returned from his search for Merlin empty-handed, but he had brought news that Alvarr's army was destroyed by an internal battle. It had seemed as though he did not believe his own words, but the knights were forced to accept that there could be no other explanation, since the magical army did not pursue them.

Arthur reined in Torrento and looked back at Leon, trying to conceal his irritation. "We have moved barely an inch since yesterday. At this rate, it will take us over two weeks to reach Camelot when it should only be taking us four days!"

Leon shrugged helplessly. "We don't have Gaius or any other healer. We are doing the best we can, my lord."

Arthur felt a little apologetic. He knew that his knights had suffered a lot and sometimes his inner turmoil made him forget that. "We shall make camp in that thicket until all the knights are well enough to ride again," he said loudly for all his knights to hear.

He turned to Sir Gawain. "We need to still stay vigilant. You shall take the first watch."

* * *

He liked being a dragon because his thoughts and motivations became much clearer. He was so comfortable in the dragon's skin that it was now his own, and the thrill of the flight was exhilarating.

His first objective – to find Arthur. He scanned the ground beneath him; the trees were just visible as tiny pinpricks but he knew that his sharp sight would be able to spot an army easily.

His second - to kill Emrys and avenge Morgana's attempted murder. Even as he thought of Emrys, his blood boiled, fuelling his wings to fly harder. At first, he had been childish enough to think of Emrys as someone he could trust. From the very beginning, he had felt a connection with him, which allowed them to communicate through their minds; it was something that most Druids could do, but with Emrys, it was as though their minds were connected without any conscious effort. But now…he _hated_ Emrys more than he despised the mother who had abandoned him.

_Emrys will pay for what he has done. Druid lore may have foreseen greatness in his alliance with Arthur… but that will change. Now I have just as much, if not more power than he does. The things I have achieved with my magic…he cannot even begin to fathom. _

_I can easily defeat him…_

And that brought him to his final objective - he wanted to take Merlin's place when Arthur was King, as the most powerful sorcerer in the kingdom and beyond. He had nothing against Arthur. In fact, he was indebted to him, as Morgana said, for saving his life. By Arthur's side, his talents would be appreciated, respected and even feared – he would be indispensable to the kingdom. As for Morgana…she would see him in a different light. She was the one person he had always loved and her approval meant more to him than anything. At Arthur's side, she would hold him in high esteem…

He spotted a large black shadow in the open plains and began to descend. He had found Camelot's army.

* * *

Arthur poked the fire with his stick as the knights busied themselves with setting up camp. He was missing Merlin's mindless chatter, but now he wondered whether it had all been an act. He knew that Merlin had always been more intelligent than he let on, but now he questioned whether Merlin had done all that to make Arthur feel more worthy.

He saw a shadow in the sky and his hand automatically went to his sword. "Lancelot," he called.

Lancelot appeared at his side quickly enough despite his limp. "Sire?" His face bore some small scars, but they appeared to be healing rapidly. He looked none the worse for wear.

Arthur felt once again that since Merlin had left, he was much more on his guard – now that he supposed that Merlin had saved their lives countless times without his knowledge. "There's a shadow I saw in the sky. I know I am being overly cautious but ask Gawain to find out what it is."

Lancelot bowed his head and limped away hurriedly.

* * *

As Mordred dived, he saw a blond head leading the army.

The blond head looked up in complete terror as the mighty black dragon landed heavily, blocking their path.

Before the blond figure could blink, the dragon had disappeared and in its place, stood a young man.

The army gasped in awe and reverence.

Mordred stepped forward. The fair-haired one was not who he thought. "Where is Arthur?" He held up Morgana's ring. "I come in peace by the Lady Morgana's command." But, as Mordred's eyes surveyed the army, he knew that this was no army of Camelot.

It was only a small contingent of an army that he had mistaken for a large group of soldiers. They were cloaked in red, like their leader, who wore a red dress. Their hoods were drawn over their heads, but they carried no shields…or weapons.

Morgause finally found her voice and held her head up arrogantly. "Who are you? And how dare you use my sister's name?" Morgause looked at his simple white tunic and frayed black cloak with disdain. At the same time, she recalled his fearsome dragon form and knew she had to be careful.

Mordred, at first, was infuriated by her condescending demeanor. However, he remembered that this woman had saved Morgana's life and with difficulty, he swallowed his pride. "You must be Morgause."

His voice was soft, but Morgause sensed an undercurrent of authority. She knew that her army did not frighten this man. During the long pause she had almost raised her hand to signal her army to capture him, but she lowered it quietly. Morgause was a woman of opportunity and she knew that this dragon-man would be a formidable ally. She dismounted from her horse and signaled her army to remain back.

He stood proudly even as she walked slowly with regality towards him. "I am Morgause. How is it you know of me? And how came you by this ring?" asked Morgause, in what she thought was a conversational tone.

"Morgana spoke of you fondly. You saved her life and for that, I honour you." Mordred inclined his head briefly towards her.

"Who _are_ you?" she asked again with a hint of impatience.

"I am Mordred. Morgana is my friend and she bid me to find Arthur, as the king is nearing his last breath. She told me that you were also on your way. But what is the purpose of your army?"

Morgause did some quick thinking. If this man was allied with Morgana, then she could prey on his affections for her and use his loyalty for her young sister to extend to her own needs. "Oh Mordred, I am the bearer of some terrible news. Arthur has been slain in battle. He is dead! His army is destroyed."

Mordred, hearing the news, looked downwards in deep contemplation. _Even if Arthur is dead, I know Emrys can't be. _

Morgause tentatively placed her hand on Mordred's shoulder to comfort him. Feeling her touch, Mordred cringed and shook her hand off. He met her eyes and said in a somber tone, "Morgana will be distraught." He could not bear to think of her pain.

Morgause saw that Mordred was even more attached to Morgana than she had initially believed. "That is why we must return to her. She should not be alone at this sad time." Morgause flourished her hand behind her. "I have brought this army of sorcerers to protect our kingdom upon hearing of Arthur's untimely demise. The kingdom will be in jeopardy with no security. These people have been in exile on the Continent during Uther's long reign and now, it is time for them to return home."

Mordred regarded her words with some suspicion, but decided that Morgana's need for him was greater than his need to destroy Emrys. He would voice his mistrust of Morgause's motivations to Morgana when he arrived at Camelot.

Aloud, he said, "I will accompany you to Camelot."

Morgause asked one of her men to bring a horse for Mordred to ride. He scoffed inwardly, knowing that he could cover the distance much faster in flight, but he decided he would humour Morgause. He wanted to learn more about her intentions.

They both mounted their respective horses and as they galloped forward, the army followed behind.

Morgause was intrigued by this man. "So tell me, Mordred. Dragons have not been seen for many years. How have you managed this incredible feat?"

* * *

"It was just a large eagle, sire. Nothing more." Sir Gawain tried not to laugh.

Arthur felt foolish and stalked off to his tent, which had just been erected.

_I've turned into a frightened coward ever since Merlin left. Did he care for me at all or was I just a pawn in his game?_


	7. Chapter 6

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: Thank you for your reviews! Just fyi, when we wrote this chapter, we felt that Merlin did not see the flashbacks (it was something we thought would be interesting for the audience to know)._

_This is an important chapter to our plot, so please tell us what you think! :) _

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"And when man faces destiny, destiny ends and man comes into his own."

~ Andre Malraux

* * *

Hunith carried a bowl of steaming beef broth and bread to her son, who was sitting outside. She paused at the doorway.

Merlin sat on the bench, his shoulders slumped and head in his hands. He had barely spoken a word since he had appeared at her doorstep three days ago. Although the mother inside her was overjoyed to see her son return home, her intuition told her that it could not be for long. Merlin had grown too big for Ealdor or Ealdor had become too small for him. She smiled sadly but resolved that she would make the most of whatever time she did have with her beloved son.

"Merlin, you must be hungry."

Merlin started and looked up as his mother sat down beside him. She handed him the bread and he tore a chunk off with his teeth, chewing slowly.

"I made your favourite soup. Remember how you and Will would finish off a whole pot when you were young?" Hunith hoped the memory of his childhood friend would spark a response.

Merlin tried to smile, but did not say anything. His mother scooped up a spoonful of broth and offered it to him. Merlin opened his mouth, remembering how she used to feed him when he was a child. He wanted to make an effort for her sake because he saw that she was worried. "It's delicious, mother."

Hunith smiled gratefully and Merlin felt guilty that he had not come to see his mother since bringing the news of Balinor's death to her. And now, here he was because he had nowhere else to go. Although it was selfish of him, he felt safe in his home of old. "I'm sorry, mother. I should have visited you more often…I haven't been a very good son lately."

"You are the best son a mother could ask for. And I know your father would feel the same way."

Merlin looked at her in surprise for he was still not used to Hunith speaking of Balinor. She had been devastated when he had told her that his father sacrificed his life to save Merlin's. At the time, he did not understand how the death of a man, who had become a stranger to her, could affect her so deeply.

Hunith fed him another spoon of hot broth and it warmed him as it trickled down his throat. She had always been there for him and he wanted more than anything to speak openly with her…but he did not know how. After he had left Arthur, Merlin found his way to Ealdor. He had only told his mother that Arthur felt betrayed knowing about his magic and that forced Merlin to leave.

"I'm so…lost. I don't know what to do, mother."

Hunith didn't know how to guide him properly, but wanted him to find his purpose again. "Merlin, when your father first came to Ealdor, he looked just like you do now. He spoke often of how he felt he had deserted his brother, his kin, the dragon. He seemed as though he had lost himself, but with time he found renewed purpose in this village." She blushed slightly and scraped the bowl for the last spoonful, absent-mindedly putting it in her own mouth.

Merlin smiled genuinely for the first time in days. He put his arm around her thin shoulders and squeezed her lightly. He felt more at peace and looked around the village, imagining that his father too had seen the same sight. "I wish he was here to tell me what I must do…"

Merlin suddenly jumped up. "The dragon! Kilgharrah! That's it! But I don't know if he will help me..." He sat down again, looking dejected.

Hunith put her hand on his shoulder. "Your father told me that Kilgharrah was the most noble of souls. He was your father's closest companion and he will surely honor Balinor's memory."

* * *

It was dawn when Merlin entered the forest near Ealdor. He didn't even know where to begin looking, but guessed that there was some way he would be able to summon Kilgharrah to him…and it seemed like a good idea to do so in a forest rather than in plain sight.

He found a clearing in the woods. Merlin closed his eyes and listened intently for the counsel of past Dragonlords.

_Call the dragon to you._

Feeling rather foolish, he raised his arms not knowing what words to use. "O Great Dragon! I, the last Dragonlord, summon you!"

Merlin waited for a few seconds, but heard nothing in the clearing or in his head. He knew it was stupid to expect the dragon to appear so quickly, but he had at least hoped to hear Kilgharrah's response in his mind.

He tried again, thinking that he needed to sound more forceful. "I command you to appear in my presence, Dragon!"

Still nothing happened and Merlin began to wonder whether the dragon would want to come at all, given their last encounter.

"You have no choice, Kilgharrah! You will answer to me!" Merlin roared.

Suddenly, he heard a rush of wind and he looked up to see the Great Dragon circling the clearing. Merlin felt exhilarated at his command over the dragon though he knew that he had to tread carefully for the dragon had misled him in the past.

The dragon swooped down and landed gracefully for such a large creature. "Easy, young warlock. When a Dragonlord calls a dragon by his true name, the dragon must answer…and I heard your call yesterday. I began my journey at once." The dragon looked as venerable as ever.

"I didn't think you would come," said Merlin with relief.

"Though we did not part on good terms, I knew our paths would cross once more. And once again, you call me for help," said Kilgharrah with a hint of smugness.

Merlin opened his mouth to retort, but changed his mind, knowing that he needed the dragon's guidance. "Kilgharrah, we have always had an unequal relationship and thus, neither of us has been entirely honest with the other. Although I now have discovered that I am a Dragonlord and you must do my bidding, I would rather that you advise me and act as my equal. And if you think me worthy…then as a friend, like you were to my father."

The Great Dragon narrowed his eyes and sized up the situation. The prophecies had foretold that Merlin would be a formidable sorcerer, but the dragon had not predicted that he would so compassionate.

"What is it that you ask of me?" Kilgharrah's tone was more welcoming.

The sun had risen fully, causing the trees to cast shadows over the clearing.

Merlin said with a heavy voice, "I have parted ways with Arthur." He sat down on a nearby rock. "He discovered my magic and now, I cannot hope to fulfill my destiny."

"A parting of the ways does not mean that the roads will not meet again."

"But when?" Merlin felt frustrated by the dragon's usual riddles. "When will our paths meet?"

"When the time is right." The dragon looked mysterious. "At the moment you have other matters of concern to attend to. Uther's reign has ended. But it will not be easy to place Arthur on the throne. You both have many foes. You were able to destroy that army easily, but it will not be so when you face your kin."

"My kin? But that does not make any sense… my only living kin is my mother." Merlin did not meet the dragon's eyes and pulled at the grass. "You know my father is no more."

"Wrong! There is much you do not know, Merlin. And now, perhaps, it is time you learnt the truth. Your father was forced to flee Camelot after he had unknowingly imprisoned me. I was still able to communicate with him and I learned that he had taken refuge in a village with a woman."

* * *

_Hunith scrubbed the white tunic ferociously. Her soap was rapidly disappearing, as was her patience. Hunith couldn't believe that Gaius had sent her such a disagreeable man to shelter. When he had first arrived in the middle of the night as a stranger on her doorstep, she had felt sorry for him. His handsome face had been filled with pain as though he was pining for a lost part of himself. _

_But now, it had been nearly a fortnight and he was as gruff and distant as ever. Not only was she now forced to do double the work around the house…she also received no appreciation or help from that tall, dark… stupid man! She wiped the soapsuds off her face with her sleeve and started to rinse his tunic. _

_Balinor watched his young hostess wring out the water from his shirt, feeling a mixture of gratitude and guilt. He had been so preoccupied with his own misery. He knew she must think of him as a complete pig…yet he did not know why he suddenly cared for her good opinion anyway__. As he watched, long black strands of hair were falling out of her bun into her face and she brushed them away irritably. There was no question that he had seen more beautiful girls in his life, but there was something special about Hunith…she had life in her every movement, a kindness in her gaze that was more attractive to him than the alluring glances he was used to. For the first time in days, Balinor felt something stir inside him other than sadness. _

_Hunith lifted the tunic to put over the clothesline, but she felt it taken from her grasp by strong hands. She saw Balinor gently lay the tunic over the clothesline. _

_He turned to face her and she was surprised at the warmth in his eyes. Hunith was shocked when he picked up the bar of soap and began to scrub. She wanted to thank him, but she found that she was suddenly too shy. Instead, she sat next to him and began to rinse the next cloth, not meeting his eyes …_

… _The next morning, Hunith awoke but kept her eyes closed. She savoured the feeling of her dreams, which had revolved around a certain man. Her cheeks burned as she turned over. She could hear that same man chopping wood outside and she knew that from now on things would be different. She opened her eyes slowly and smiled at his sweet gesture._

_A delicate woodcarving had been left beside her pillow. She lifted the beautifully handcrafted rose to her cheek. There was a strange lurch in her stomach that was both unsettling and pleasant. She leapt to her feet and marveled at how the sun seemed to shine with more brightness than ever before …_

… _The fire crackled merrily illuminating the two figures lying on the ground. Hunith was acutely aware of Balinor's arm around her waist. She turned her back to the fire and saw that his eyes were closed. She had already memorized every line on his face, but she still stared intently, never wanting to look away. _

_His eyes still closed, Balinor murmured. "What are you thinking of, my love?" _

"_I am thinking that I am the luckiest woman alive." Hunith brushed his rough cheek lovingly. _

"_I thought I would never truly live again." Balinor kissed her softly. "I am much luckier than you." _

_They didn't speak for some time and Balinor's hands lazily played with the ties on the back of her nightdress. He said teasingly, "I think I might have competition. I saw Matthew making eyes at you when you went to fetch water from the well this morning." _

_Hunith nestled up to him and placed her hands on his chest. "Well…Matthew is very handsome…" She hid a smile as she watched Balinor pretending to frown. _

"_Well, we can't have any of that now, can we? I need to make an honest woman of you." Balinor's tone changed from joking to serious in an instant. He took both her hands in one of his own. "Let's get married."_

_Hunith's blue eyes widened. "Really? You want to get married?" She took his arm and lifted her head so she could rest it in the crook of his elbow. _

"_Well, yes. The question is would a beautiful woman like you want to spend your life with a grumpy man like me?" _

"_You're right. Do I want to risk our children turning out to be just like you?"_

_Balinor laughed. "Children? Oh, I see you have already thought of those…well, I think we should have about twenty terrorizing Ealdor."_

_Hunith sat up with a bolt. "Twenty? I am not marrying you!" _

"_Don't worry, I'll build us a bigger house." Balinor sat up as well and looked deeply into Hunith's eyes. "I promise to keep you happy, Hunith because wherever you are, that's where my home and my heart lies__."_

_Hunith had tears in her eyes as she replied softly. "You make me so happy…Balinor - "_

_Loud, frantic knocking at the door caused her to turn mid-sentence. Balinor leapt to his feet and strode to the door, throwing it open._

_One of the villagers, Derek, stood outside, his eyes full of fear. _

"_Speak, lad. What brings you here at this hour?" Balinor asked the shaking young man. _

"_They are coming! Uther's men are coming for you! I saw them…you have an hour, maybe less." The boy's words were rushed. _

_Balinor said nothing, but with a sinking feeling of despair, he turned to face Hunith, who was clutching the blanket, still sitting near the fire. _

_Their dreams of home and happiness had been shattered in only a single moment. _

_Hunith looked terrified but rose swiftly and began to throw both their belongings into a sack. _

_Tears welled up in Balinor's eyes at her courage and devotion, but deep inside he knew that he could never put her in danger. This was a journey he had to make alone. _

_Hunith paused, as though she could almost read his thoughts, and tried to smile at him encouragingly. _

_But Balinor resolved that he would not put her in harm's way by ever returning to Ealdor. _

_He would never see her again._

_

* * *

_

The dragon continued. "Uther did not stop pursuing your father. He left the village and I lost all contact with him. It was as though he had shut his mind to everyone."

It pained Merlin to hear this tale again. "I know this. Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you do not know what followed."

* * *

_Balinor stumbled into the bar. Loud and raucous laughter rang through the dimly lit room. Balinor felt intoxicated by the surroundings alone, but he knew he needed much more to dull his pain. _

_He had allowed his foolish hope, for a moment, to lead him towards Ealdor. He had even been close enough to see children playing in the fields and smoke rising from the thatched roofs. But he could not take a step forward. She was probably happily married with her own family. And why shouldn't she be? He had left her. _

_It had been eleven long years. _

_Lost in his thoughts, he downed another pint of ale and the busty barmaid refilled his mug. _

_He had wandered aimlessly for so long that he didn't even know where he was. He blinked when across the bar he saw black hair and a flash of blue eyes, reminding him again, with a stab, of Hunith. _

_He looked away, but the dark-haired lady had started to make her way towards him. Her face was blurry, but familiar. _

_She sat next to him and leaned towards him, saying playfully. "Balinor, it's been a long time. I thought you were dead. What brings you here?" Though she was smiling, her eyes remained cold and void of warmth. Her face was pretty, but her demeanor was haughty. _

"_Niniane," he said gruffly. "You too are far from your home." He now remembered her from that Druid camp that he had once spent a night at…a long while ago. She had been friendly…more than friendly. Dragonlords held a certain allure and appeal before Uther's purge. At that time, Balinor had been used to and reciprocated the female attention. But that was a different man. That was before he had met Hunith. He took another swig of his ale and he turned away from her. _

_Niniane was surprised that he remembered her. "I have never forgotten that night we spent at my home." Her voice was sultry as she slowly and deliberately stroked his hand. "It looks as though you are trying to forget something. I can help." _

"_Just leave me to be." _

_She waited patiently for him to finish his mug of ale. He got to his feet unsteadily, threw some coins down and staggered for the door. _

_She blocked his way and took his arm. "We are both lonely tonight…Let me help you, Balinor. Let me help you forget." She slid her arms around his neck and drew his face down to hers. _

_His mind went blank as she kissed him deeply. He allowed himself blindly to be led up the stairs of the inn by her firm grip on his arm._

_

* * *

_

"Balinor must have become a completely broken man for I had no indication of where he was or what he was doing."

Merlin shifted on the rock, eager for Kilgharrah to get to the point of this story.

The dragon's amber eyes gleamed. "Eleven years later, I sensed for the first time since you were born, the birth of another powerful being who I knew had Balinor's blood and hence the potential to have power over me…"

Merlin suddenly felt alert. "What? Another Dragonlord?" He fell silent at the implication of his father being with another woman.

"After your father's death, the young boy became a Dragonlord just like you did. He came upon a lost and forgotten dragon egg in the forest and it hatched for him."

Merlin was finding it hard to absorb the information he was receiving. He was both intrigued and scared by the possibility of having a brother with whom he might be able to share his magic.

The dragon stretched out his large wings. "The birth of another dragon is a rare and promising event, but I fear it has fallen into wrong hands because the young boy used dark magic to bind his soul to the dragon's…making the dragon a mere puppet in his hands." Kilgharrah sounded furious at the insult to his kin.

Merlin thought out loud with dread. "I have been sensing strong magic this whole past year…what kind of evil is at work? How is it possible to tie souls together?"

"It has been attempted only once before and no good can come of it now. This boy is a force to be reckoned with, Merlin. He is now a man for he has aged with the dragon. The wheels of disaster are in motion. He has already visited with the witch to renew their alliance."

Merlin stood up as the truth dawned on him.

* * *

_The cries of a newborn rang in the hut. Niniane lay back exhausted, sweaty and relieved that she was done with this ordeal that had begun only as a night of pleasure. _

_She heard the midwife bustling around her. She looked up wearily and asked. "Is the baby healthy?" _

_The midwife of her Druid home replied. "You have a healthy baby boy to bring you much happiness. Are you ready to hold him?" _

_Niniane was tempted for a moment to hold her child, but she knew that if she did the memory of him would always plague her. "I have no use for a child. I must thank you for your assistance, Mathilda. I hate to be trapped here and I don't want to be burdened by him. Make sure that someone in the village cares for him." _

_The midwife looked a little surprised but she was not taken aback. She had known Niniane's character since she was a child and she was a reckless, free spirit. _

_Niniane thought of the childhood sweetheart she had lost tragically because of an illness. She wondered - had he survived, would this baby have been his? She saw the bundle that Mathilda was taking away and called out in a moment of maternal weakness, thinking of her once best friend and love. _

"_Name him Mordred."_

_

* * *

_

The dragon confirmed his thoughts. "I warned you more than once about the young Druid boy. He was abandoned by his mother and his father knew not of his existence… now he is on the road to self-destruction and in the process, he will destroy everything you fight for and care about."

Merlin could not say anything. The twists of destiny were cruel. He had unknowingly saved his brother's life on their first encounter and on their last, had made an enemy of him. "He's just a boy. Is there no way we can help him?"

The dragon looked at Merlin with a trace of sympathy. "He's not like you, Merlin. It's too late. His path has been chosen. You _must_ be wary of him. Not only is his character different, his magic is different from yours." The dragon spoke with urgency. "Mordred's magic is uncontrollable, raw and instinctive - and worse, it has no purpose…unlike yours. Do not overestimate your abilities or underestimate his. He is a dangerous foe indeed."

"What can I do now?" Merlin yelled at the dragon in frustration.

"Your destiny now, as always, still lies with Camelot."

Merlin sighed in resignation at the dragon's ambiguous advice. He paced back and forth for a while as the dragon watched patiently. He made up his mind. "I will return to Camelot to await Arthur's arrival," he announced. "He will be slowed because of the many injured knights. I still need to prove my loyalty to him and I will find some way…"

"The young Pendragon has many tests and challenges to face before his arrival in Camelot." Though he did not say it, the dragon knew that Merlin would be facing just as many challenges in Camelot, but he also knew that Merlin was ready.

Merlin swallowed his questions and replied. "You have given me much to think about. I thank you for coming at my call. I know you did not have to come."

"I had to come because you were a Dragonlord. But I wanted to come for my sake. I am still indebted to you and I will try to repay as I can."

A sudden idea struck Merlin. "I can only request this of you. Please keep an eye on Arthur as I cannot. When he returns to Camelot safely, consider your debt repaid."

The dragon bowed his head at Merlin, acknowledging his words.

Merlin watched the dragon fly away as he headed back to Ealdor to say farewell to his mother.

It was time to return to his true home.


	8. Chapter 7

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: Thanks a lot for the reviews! It's so nice to know there are others out there (apart from the two of us) who actually read this story...makes us very motivated to keep going! _

_Both of us felt a quite sad by the end of this particular chapter, but please do let us know what you think too! :)_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 7**

"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."

~ Norman Cousins

"In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image! The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her!"

~ Emily Brontë

* * *

Guinevere blew out the candle and her eyes fell on the bed where her mistress lay. Though Morgana was breathing deeply, Gwen knew she was feigning sleep. Morgana had looked more and more exhausted as the days wore by and it seemed as though the nights were giving her no rest.

Gwen quietly closed the door to Morgana's chamber and made her way down the winding staircase. She understood that any conversation would be an effort for her lady given her current state, and she knew not to force Morgana into confiding in her.

Even after the intimate conversation that they had shared many weeks back, Gwen had realized with time that Morgana was definitely changed…and there was much yet to be revealed.

When Morgana had first returned, Gwen had been highly suspicious. She guessed that her mistress had been sneaking out of the castle into the woods at night because her boots were always soiled in the morning. Gwen believed, at first, that it was the reason why Morgana was so devoid of energy…but she concluded that it couldn't have been her nocturnal wanderings causing her fatigue for Morgana had hardly left her room in the past fortnight.

Gwen crossed the courtyard and nodded to the knights on guard at the drawbridge. Seeing the knights in uniform reminded her even more strongly of the thought that always lingered in the back of her mind.

Camelot was barely hanging by a thread. Uther had completely abandoned his kingly duties and the courtiers were simply managing the mindless tasks of day-to-day affairs. Gwen heard through the servants that everyday the courtiers talked of sending a messenger to bring the Prince home. But it always ended in a fight over whether the safety of the borders against magicians should be sacrificed for the stability of Camelot's court. In the end, the majority would decide to wait for one more day…hoping for any news of the war.

Everyone in Camelot was in anticipation of Arthur's return...but no one more so than Gwen. She wanted him back for Camelot's sake, but also for her own.

She entered her house and was once again aware of her solitude. She couldn't talk to Morgana about her fears, she couldn't get comfort from Merlin's grins and though Gaius tried to give her company, they both could not offer each other the support they needed.

_Where are you, Arthur? Your people need you…I need you. _

Though each morning she eagerly looked out the window for a messenger on horseback, she also was inwardly consumed in fear that the tidings would be bad.

She lay down on the bed that her beloved had once insensitively occupied. She would have given anything to hear his pig-like snores next to her. Gwen sighed heavily and rolled over, trying to find a cozy position.

Soon enough, the pleasant thoughts of Arthur quickly lulled her to sleep.

* * *

A few hours later, Morgana was still wide awake. She was sitting up in her four-poster bed staring blankly out the window, watching the rain pour from the heavens.

Tonight was different.

The heavy rain pounding on the roof of the castle mirrored the pounding of her heart, and the heaviness of the air seemed to reflect the heaviness in her own spirits.

Almost like a ghost, her feet barely touched the ground as she glided out of her bed with newfound purpose. Not knowing where her steps were leading her, she wandered the hallways of the deserted castle with the train of her white nightgown trailing behind her.

She found herself at the entrance to the King's chambers. The guards lay fast asleep, their heads against the wall. She noiselessly stepped over a fallen spear and pushed the door open. Closing the door behind her quietly, she leaned against the door, the exertion of her small journey catching up with her.

Her gaze found the once proud and mighty Uther, lying defenseless and weak in his bed. His head was raised slightly by the pillows. But…he was as still as death and Morgana's heart skipped a beat.

All of a sudden, his head moved jerkily. Her hand went to her heart, trying to suppress her fear.

She noticed his mouth moving, and had to strain her ears to hear what he was saying.

"Yes…I want you to send another search party, Arthur. I did not protect her well enough. We shall never give up on Morgana. _I _need to find her, I _will _find her…Morgana, come to me!" he said desperately.

He was looking in her direction, but his eyes were glazed over. She stood rooted to the spot.

"To think that the great Uther Pendragon has been reduced to such a state," she said when she finally found her voice. Although Morgana had intended to sound cold and indifferent, she was overcome by a feeling of pity.

Uther blinked furiously, trying to clear his head. Reality flooded back into his consciousness.

For the briefest moment, his eyes pierced Morgana's and he said with relief, "My child."

Morgana had longed to see Uther in pain, but now that the actual scene was before her, she was feeling all the wrong emotions. She tried to remember why she had done this in the first place.

"I am not your child. I disowned you a long time ago." All her hatred for this man returned and her voice found new strength.

Uther heard her speak, as though her voice was coming from far away.

He saw her face come into view above his and the power that radiated from her transported him to another time.

_He was kissing her with passion, one hand tangled in her hair and the other grasping her tightly, as though she was his last hold on freedom. When they broke apart, both were breathing heavily. Though Uther desired the idea of her at the moment, the look in her eyes was almost feral. For an instant, he was frightened. _

Uther was shaken out of his vision when he heard his ward's voice.

"I want you to look at me and hear what I have to say." Morgana's voice had become more terrible as she gripped the bedpost for support. "I said that you would go to hell and it is _I _who have sent you there now."

Uther could do nothing. He heard and understood her words but he was paralyzed her by her dark and formidable presence.

"Yes, Uther. The girl you once swore to protect has _magic_…" Morgana waited to see if Uther would show any response, but he did nothing except look at her with wide eyes. "Magic that you so despised…you taught me all my life to fear my own true nature. It is only this past year that I have felt loved and comfortable in my own skin. I was not kidnapped…I was with my sister, Morgause, whom you have wronged horribly. Perhaps, you _were _right to fear magic, Uther, for it will indeed bring your downfall. I have made you relieve your worst nightmares as punishment for the atrocities you have inflicted on my kind. I hope you now feel the pain that you have caused to so many others," Morgana finished her rant in a bitter tone.

Uther fought to stay in reality, but his mind slipped yet again.

_His hand lowered as a signal to the executioner. A swift blow later, the job was done._

_Cries rang out, but there was only one he had ears for. As he turned, he saw Arthur sneaking out of the balcony, holding his hands to his face. _

"_Arthur!" he called, following his son into the hallway. "I told you not to come here."_

_Arthur started to run as fast his young legs would carry him. _

_Uther frowned at the guard. "How did you allow him to get onto the balcony? He's only ten years old!"_

_Ignoring the guards blabbering response, he chased his son and found him hiding behind a pillar. As he heard Arthur's sobs, he experienced the same discomfort that he always felt when he needed to deal with Arthur sensitively. _

_Uther took Arthur by the shoulders as he sat down on the base of the pillar. _

_Arthur sniffed and hastily wiped his face, but eyes were still red and puffy. He gave Uther a reproachful look and said, "Why did you have to do that? He had a son my age! I saw him crying when they brought his father to the chopping block." Arthur gave another sniff as fresh tears started rolling down his face. "Why did you do that?"_

_Uther wiped away his tears roughly and though he felt guilty, he knew Arthur would have to be willing to live with difficult decisions. "Stop your tears. The magicians do not deserve your sympathy. One day when you are king, you will understand." _

_Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Morgana standing with folded arms, looking at him with accusing eyes. _

His vision broke suddenly as the very same Morgana was standing over him with folded arms.

When she saw that his eyes had stopped roaming, she knew he had returned to the present. "What did you see this time? Another murder? At least they had people left to mourn them…._no one_ is going to mourn you." She looked at his haggard face and tried to stifle the pity that was starting to rise up again.

"Arthur…" Uther tried to call for his son, knowing his final moments were not far.

"You've sent your son far away to fight people you have made enemies out of. He is not only far away from you in distance, but also far from your cold heart. In your quest to make him a ruthless king, you have forgotten yourself as a father. Arthur will mourn his King, yes…but how can he grieve for a father he never had?"

Morgana could not quite meet Uther's eyes because she knew what she just spoke was not entirely true.

"You are lucky to have such a son who loves you deeply despite your shortcomings," she said truthfully after a pause.

A single tear rolled down the side of Uther's face.

Morgana slowly lowered herself down on the bed, near Uther's feet. With her Sight, she could almost see death hovering over the King's head.

"Arthur is noble. He will look at magicians and ordinary folk alike. He will look at commoners and nobles alike. The separations between the classes that you created in your reign will disappear when Arthur becomes King. He will finally be able to openly accept a commoner, my maidservant Gwen, as his Queen."

Morgana wanted Uther to know that all the undesirable laws he had created including those separating nobles from peasants would come crashing down after his death. She had done this to him to serve a greater purpose…and she _needed _him to know that once he was gone, Camelot would be a better kingdom in every regard.

Morgana watched Uther's face carefully to discern his reaction. Though his unwavering gaze indicated that he comprehended her words, he did not reprimand her. Instead, Uther feebly raised his shaking hand and said, "Morgana…come to me."

Morgana suddenly realized that her cheeks were glistening with tears. She moved towards him and uncertainly took his large hand in her two cold ones.

"I do not regret what I have done to you," said Morgana in a tone that sounded as though she was trying to convince herself. _And I know that some good will come of this. _"I thought that when it came to this stage, seeing you like this would bring me recompense...but it has brought me no pleasure. For the longest time, you were my only family and I know that you may no longer love me…but there was a time when you did."

Morgana had to turn her face to hide her tears. She realized, as she clutched his hand harder, that it was not wrong to weep for a man who had tried to come in her father's stead.

With enormous effort, Uther raised his hand and placed it on Morgana's head. He struggled to string words together. "I have experienced so much pain…I have hurt you and others." He breathed painfully. "Please forgive me. I have always loved you and Arthur…and I always will."

Morgana knew that perhaps he had finally understood her in death as he had never understood her in life.

Uther saw that Morgana had started sobbing into his hand, but just as clearly, he could see all the people he had ever loved around his bed.

Morgana's mother stood with her hand on Morgana's shoulder, looking at Uther with pity. Gorlois hovered at the foot of the bed, wearing his usual armour, regarding Uther with a welcoming smile. He saw Arthur as a child, jumping up and down on the bed, clambering for his attention. And just beside him, he saw Ygraine. Her golden head was bent over his, stroking his forehead lovingly.

He saw that Morgana had been following his gaze. "Ygraine…had she been a commoner, she would have still been my Queen. Tell Arthur…I am happy he is so like his mother…" Uther's hand fell from Morgana's head with exhaustion. "I go to her now…"

Morgana held Uther's hand tightly and said softly, "My lord, my king. Go in peace for you are leaving your kingdom in the best of hands."

Uther closed his eyes for the last time and surrendered to his visions.

_He heard her pretty laughter as he landed squarely on his bottom. He had been trying to impress her with his horse riding tricks, but it had all gone horribly wrong. She gracefully dismounted from her horse and came towards him. _

_He was covered in mud. "Bet you wish you hadn't agreed to marry me now."_

"_One thing is certain: you are no King of Horses." Ygraine blushed as she held out her hand to him. "Muddy or not, you're the only husband I want." _

_Even as he took her hand, Uther felt his vision change. This was no longer a memory. Ygraine's dress had become white and was shining with a light that millions of diamonds could not produce. Uther, too, was dressed in his finest cloak with a Pendragon crest emblazoned on it. There was no mud to be seen. _

_Ygraine was floating above him slightly, smiling, as she pulled him upwards into the light…_

The first rays of sunlight crept through the King's chambers as Uther Pendragon took his last breath. Morgana felt his life leave him and the spell connecting them broke at long last.

Morgana fell to the floor, unconscious.


	9. Chapter 8

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you all for the lovely reviews! Writing has been a bit slow these past few weeks since the end of summer is almost upon us, but we will diligently battle past the post-summer funk. _

_Please do review and tell us what you think of this chapter...it is *kind* of important in the grand scheme of how this story unfolds ;)_

**_

* * *

Chapter 8_**

"Yet, out of the ashes of this tragedy, we shall rise to greet the dawning of a new era."

~ The Lion King

* * *

Two cloaked figures made their way through the winding streets of Camelot. Their hoods were drawn over their faces, which instigated a few suspicious looks, but regardless everyone went about their own business.

It was almost midday and clouds were still looming in the sky, promising another thunderstorm like the night before.

The village soon disappeared behind them and the castle of Camelot towered before their eyes. The smaller of the two figures, the lady, waved a hand towards a dark alcove, just outside the castle walls.

As they stood in the shadows, she offered her hand to her young companion who took it hesitantly.

At his curiosity, she explained, "You have yet to learn how to teleport and we cannot announce ourselves openly in the castle just yet. I will take us directly to Morgana." Closing her eyes, she visualized her sister while chanting a spell.

A cart rolled idly by, the sleepy-eyed driver not bothering to hold onto the reins properly. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw two figures grasping hands near the castle moat.

All of a sudden, a cloud enveloped them.

He blinked, only to find that they were gone. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and shook his head, thinking he must have imagined it.

* * *

The two strangers appeared simultaneously in the centre of the King's chambers.

Mordred only had eyes for Morgana, who lay on the floor beside the four-poster bed with her nightgown in disarray. He rushed towards her, true fear gripping his heart.

While Mordred bent over Morgana with deep concern, Morgause paused at the foot of the bed, looking upon the face of her longtime enemy. Uther seemed peaceful in death and Morgause felt an irrational anger at that.

Meanwhile, Mordred took Morgana's head in his lap gently and brushed the dark tresses out of her face. He lifted her cold wrist, feeling for her pulse – it was weak.

"Morgause!" Mordred's voice broke with urgency. "You have to help! She's slipping away!"

As Morgause stepped towards Morgana, she was concerned…but not overly so. After all, it had been a big project for her young sister and an extreme loss of energy was to be expected. Besides, Morgause was well-trained in healing spells like all priestesses of the Old Religion.

Mordred watched as Morgause knelt down opposite him and took Morgana's other hand in hers. She closed her eyes in concentration and whispered, "_Áwreccan Morgana…__Gán swebban_."

A tear from Mordred's eyes dropped on Morgana's forehead as he bent closer to her.

Slowly, as Morgause continued to repeat her spell, colour returned to Morgana's skin and her breathing became steady and deep. She turned her head and smiled slightly, as though she was having a pleasant dream.

Morgause opened her eyes to see Mordred hastily wiping away the wetness on his face. For the first time since she met him, she caught a glimpse of the child still learning to be a man.

But just as quickly, Mordred's mask was back on.

"Thank you," he said stiffly.

"She will be alright now. She just needs to rest." Morgause patted her sister's arm and returned to her position at the foot of Uther's bed. She had planned out this moment over and over again in her mind, but she knew that she would have to now play her next move carefully. Mordred was an unforeseen complication and her beloved sister's loyalties had always been a source of worry.

While she was lost in thought, Mordred easily lifted Morgana from the cold floor and placed her carefully on the divan beside the curtains in Uther's room.

"So what do we do now?" Mordred turned toward Morgause and folded his arms.

"It is time magic is returned to this kingdom," replied Morgause.

It was time everyone knew the truth.

Mordred suddenly saw a strange power radiating from Morgause as her eyes became gold. She was chanting a complex spell under her breath. Upon hearing rustling of sheets, he turned towards the King's bed.

Uther Pendragon silently rose, disturbed from his slumber of death, as though he were a puppet on a string.

* * *

Gaius laboured up the stone steps towards the castle. He was growing older each day and his age was finally catching up with his body.

Gwen slipped her arm through his to offer her support. "Let me take that basket of herbs from you, Gaius. We've had to go a long ways to get them today."

Gaius patted her hand gratefully. "You are a kind girl, Gwen," he said.

When they reached the courtyard, there was a great crowd gathered below Uther's balcony in anticipation.

Gwen looked at Gaius in surprise.

She stopped a nearby knight and questioned him. "What is going on?"

The tall knight responded, pointing his spear at the balcony. "The King is about to address us all. Perhaps there is news of the Prince's return. What else could be a good enough reason for him to venture outside for the first time in weeks?" The knight walked away importantly.

Gaius and Gwen exchanged looks. Gaius saw a bit of sparkle return to Gwen's eyes as he himself found his own spirits lifting, knowing that Merlin would soon be coming home too.

As they walked more briskly to join the growing crowd, Gaius was intrigued by Uther's sudden need for a public appearance. He, like the rest of the castle, had not seen the King since his impromptu midnight council meeting, many weeks ago. Gaius was frightened at the thought of Uther having another hallucinatory attack in front of his people.

"Stay here, Gwen. Maybe I should talk to the King first." Gaius pushed his way through the crowd, but before he could reach the front, Uther had appeared at the balcony.

Gaius heard concerned whispers start up all around him and he had no doubt as to why the appearance of the King had caused such a stir.

Uther was skin and bones. He was leaning on the balcony in the oddest manner – his limbs were all askew. His crown was placed sloppily on his head, and his red cloak, that now looked far too big for him, covered his ragged nightshirt.

Gaius had never seen anyone look so ill. He was surprised that Uther was still standing.

To Gaius' utmost surprise, when Uther spoke, his voice was as booming as ever. "My people. I have not seen any of you in a long time and now, it is my painful duty to give you the saddest of news."

The smiles disappeared from everyone's faces as they realized that this was not going to be the news they had been anxiously awaiting to hear.

The woman next to Gaius softly cried out. "No…"

Gaius put his arm around her, recognizing her to be the sister of Sir Leon and he wondered how many more families were suffering the separation due to war.

Uther continued after a lengthy pause. He clutched the balcony and awkwardly placed one foot in front of the other to drag himself forward. "The war is lost. Our knights are perished. My son, my only son…is _dead_." Uther hung his head mechanically as though his spine was not connected to his head.

Gaius' heart stopped. _Merlin! Not Merlin too… _

He tried to convince himself that there was no way that Merlin could have died. He knew in his heart of hearts that he would felt _something _if anything had happened to Merlin.

But Arthur… Gaius had protected Arthur from birth and had seen him grow before his eyes into a prince the kingdom could be proud of. How could that hope-filled boy be gone?

He automatically found Gwen's face in the crowd. She had dropped both the baskets she had been carrying and her face was frozen in complete anguish.

The entire courtyard was as silent as death. Only the cries of a baby echoed loudly.

There were no tears. Everyone was too shocked to cry.

Uther still had his head hanging and continued to speak, not giving the crowd a chance to fully absorb his last words. "This news has caused me great pain, but I promise you that Camelot will not fall into the wrong hands. We must be strong in this time of hardship and we must all unite together, but I shall not be the one to guide you. As you can see, my end is near. I am no longer fit to rule."

The crowd began to murmur and the same question seemed to be ringing in all their heads.

_Who is to rule is now? _Gaius wondered.

Uther raised his head and scanned the crowd. Gaius saw that his head moved rather jerkily from position to position. "Fear not, my dearest subjects. I know you think that I am now without heir, but there is something you all do not know."

Suddenly, a flash of suspicion crossed Gaius' mind. He could only guess what Uther was referring to, but could not imagine that the King would reveal such truths that he had sworn would never cross his lips.

"My first-born is not Arthur." The audience gasped almost as one. "I had fathered a child before my marriage to Ygraine…and she has rightful claim to the throne now that Arthur is no longer with us."

Gaius watched in horror as Uther's arm raised robotically and a slender, blond lady in red stepped out onto the balcony. Slightly in her shadows, Gaius saw a young man he did not recognize leaning against the balcony entrance.

Uther tried to place his hand on her shoulder, but his hand missed his intended target. Instead, she took his fallen hand in hers.

"This is my daughter, Morgause," Uther declared.

Gaius knew now that Uther was certainly mad. The Uther he knew would _never _have acknowledged this truth.

"I henceforth appoint Morgause as the next ruler of Camelot." Uther shakily removed the crown from his head as Morgause knelt dutifully. His hands were trembling uncontrollably, but she held his wrists and guided the crown to her head. She rose gracefully and accepted the signet ring he was holding out to her and placed it on her left index finger.

Uther held up Morgause's hand and loudly proclaimed, "I present to you the Queen of Camelot. Behold Queen Morgause!"

Gaius saw Morgause trying to suppress a victorious smile and he could not watch anymore. He rushed forward towards the stairs leading into the castle, pushing a stationary guard out of the way. He could hear the buzzing of the crowd even inside the castle.

He heard Uther's voice ring out again as he clambered up the stairs. "I have wronged her in the past because of my unfounded prejudice towards magic. Now that my son and my army have been destroyed by my hate for magicians, I finally see how wrong I was. In my final days, I wish for the war against magic to cease. But, we must still keep our borders safe from rebels like Alvarr. The only way to combat their evil magic is with magic of our own."

Gaius reached the top of the stairs and he glanced out the window, seeing that no one in the courtyard had moved a muscle. He hurried up the next flight of steps, determined to reach the King's bedroom before any more damage could be done.

"As Morgause is a daughter of a priestess of the Old Religion…she will be able to guide us all…" Gaius heard Uther's voice fading away as he mentioned something about Morgause's friends who were on hand to defend Camelot.

Gaius heard a new female voice reverberating in the courtyard. "Please show me the same loyalty you have shown my good father. Let us allow him to rest now. I will address you all as soon as I am able."

A few minutes later, Gaius finally arrived at the doors to Uther's chamber. The knights outside looked extremely confused. When they saw him, one of them said with relief, "Gaius! He only told us to ring the bell for a public address. We are barred from entering. What is going on?"

Gaius ignored them as he tried to push the door open, but it was bolted. "Knock down the door, you fools!"

The guards looked bewildered but followed his directions. Both slammed their shoulders simultaneously into the door and it fell off its hinges. Gaius stumbled in, nearly tripping over the rubble.

The scene that met his eyes shocked him. In the middle of the room, Uther lay in a heap at the new Queen's feet.

Gaius started forward. "What have you done? You murderer!"

Mordred stepped between Gaius and Morgause. "Careful, old man," he said in a dangerously low voice.

Morgause was gladdened by Mordred's small indication of loyalty, but she interjected. "It's alright. I know him. He helped me when I was only a baby. Let him examine Uther and see that he died of natural causes not one minute ago."

Mordred stepped out of the way as Gaius kneeled besides Uther's body. He saw that what Morgause had said was true - Uther had not died of any physical wound. But…his body was unnaturally cold for a man who had just died.

He looked up at Morgause with mistrust. "Uther has been dead at least since this morning. What have you done, witch?" His eyes fell on Morgana who was lying peacefully on the divan. He scrambled to his feet, ready to examine her as well. He feared for her life.

But he had not taken one step towards her, when Mordred roughly took his arm, holding him back.

"Morgana has no need of your assistance," Mordred said forcefully.

Morgause stepped over Uther's body carelessly and faced Gaius directly, leaving the train of her dress on Uther's face. "Listen carefully, physician. I will spare your life if you do not interfere…I know you helped my mother once, so I will give you a chance."

Gaius struggled against Mordred's grip ineffectively. "How did you do all this? How can Arthur be dead? You had a hand in his death as you had a hand in killing Uther! I should have let you die when I had the chance!"

Morgause was surprised at Gaius' unwavering affection for Uther. For Arthur, she could understand, but for Uther?

Her patience was growing thin. "You are wrong on all accounts. I had no hand in Uther's death. He is responsible for his own downfall, for those closest to him…" She looked at Morgana's sleeping figure pointedly. "Those who were closest to him…_hated _him."

"You have poisoned your younger sister, just as your mother has poisoned you!" Gaius spat.

"SILENCE," Morgause screamed. "I've had enough." She turned to the guards who stood blankly at the doorway. "As your Queen, I command you to arrest this man immediately."

The guards hesitated and looked helplessly at Gaius.

"I will not tell you again. Take this man to the dungeons or you _will_ suffer at my hand." As she spoke, her eyes changed colour. The room grew dark and the chandelier above them began to shake.

The knights looked fearful and dashed towards Gaius, each of them taking one of his arms. They marched him out as he continued to shout and protest.

As Morgause's eyes returned to her normal colour, she called towards the knights. "Wait…make sure you put him where no one can hear his madness," she said calmly.

She gave them an enchanting smile and they felt rather light-headed as they walked off with a protesting physician in tow.

Morgause walked towards the full-size mirror coolly and adjusted the crown on her head. She saw Mordred watching her in the reflection. She gave him a triumphant smirk, which he slowly returned.

* * *

Guinevere collapsed to her knees, dazed, and listlessly started to pick up the herbs she had dropped. Her hands shook as she threw them into the baskets.

The courtyard was empty. People had either gone home to mourn in tears or to the local pub to discuss what this drastic change would mean for the kingdom.

Gwen picked up the baskets and her feet carried her home automatically. She had taken this walk many times before, but she had never felt so lifeless in these familiar surroundings.

There were no guards at the drawbridge to nod at her. No children playing in the streets in the mid-afternoon. No women humming as they dried their laundry. No men whistling as they cut logs for their fires. But Gwen noticed none of this.

She put the baskets down with some care when she entered her home before she threw herself on her hard bed, facedown. Burying her head in her pillow, she wanted to shut out the entire world. Gwen longed for her father's warm coat that she always nestled and cried into when she was young, after her mother had passed away.

This time the tears did not come.

In the last hour, she had gone from giddiness at the prospect of Arthur's arrival to feeling like she had lost the ground beneath her feet. She was falling…falling into oblivion.

After he had emerged from fighting the Great Dragon, she had thrown herself into his arms, allowing herself to be caught in the moment. Things had been different between them from then onwards…

At first, Arthur kept insisting of talking of the future they had together, but she had finally made him vow to stay in the present. To enjoy the stolen kisses, the veiled looks, the secret wanderings…

Their love for each other had blossomed into a beautiful relationship where she felt like his equal. They were in a world of their own, where class divisions did not exist. They both had eyes only for each other and since her father had died, she felt safe only in his arms.

But still, she had not dared to hope…for she knew that _someday _he would have had to find a princess for his bride. And someday, their little world would end and she would be left clutching the broken pieces of reality and the fragments of her heart.

Gwen closed her eyes tightly, trying to force the tears that she felt inside to pour out.

But, tears still did not come.

How was it that now that she had lost everything, she could clearly see the future that they had had all along. For that princess was supposed to be her. She _had _been the princess because of his love. She knew deep down that Arthur would never have chosen another.

Why had she not allowed herself to dream with him? It was ironic that when he had left the world and thereby destroyed every bit of their future together, she could visualize their possibilities.

This time, she did not try to stifle it.

Arthur would have been a great king, the best king Camelot had ever seen. She had loved him as her future king even before loving him as her beloved. Gwen never had any ambition to be queen, but she knew now that with Arthur at her side, she could have been anything.

She traced the outline of the child they would never have on her pillow. She could see them as a family…Arthur teaching their son how to hunt, Merlin tossing his godson onto his shoulders.

She sat up with a bolt. _Merlin! _She knew that Merlin would have given his life before allowing his friend to die. And that must mean that Merlin was gone too…

How could one heart take so much pain? Suddenly, Gwen realized how selfish she was being. So many had lost their loved ones today. She looked at the discarded basket of herbs and decided that sharing her grief with Gaius might give them both some temporary comfort.

She looked around her hut one last time before she headed back to the castle to find Gaius. Her home already looked changed to her - it was no longer that safe haven of old…

Before she knew it, she had reached Gaius' quarters. She knocked politely since the door was closed firmly. Feeling that something was amiss, she opened the door and stepped over the threshold.

"Gaius," she called. Her voice sounded hoarse, as though she had forgotten how to speak.

Gaius was nowhere to be seen. His equipment lay untouched from the morning.

"Gaius," she tried again. Still, there was no response.

Merlin's bedroom door was ajar. She made her way into his room and noticed that it looked as though he was still living in it, even though he had been away for many weeks. Gaius had not bothered cleaning up after Merlin. Clothes lay abandoned on the floor, books were haphazardly stacked in the corner and his bed was unmade.

Gwen went straight to the bed and snuggled under the covers. She remembered that after her father had died, she had found solace in this same room. And Arthur had come to express his apology…she half-smiled thinking that he had gotten a lot better at expressing himself…

Finally, the tears began to flow.

* * *

Morgause strode into Morgana's chambers as though they were her own. Mordred followed more cautiously, with Morgana in his arms; he turned sideways so that she would not be hit by the doorframe.

Morgause smoothed out the sheets and plumped the pillows on the bed. Mordred lowered Morgana onto the pillows as though she was made of delicate porcelain. Morgana did not move a muscle as her sleep was deep and restful.

Both friend and sister looked upon the sleeping beauty with affection.

Morgause sat on the bed and watched Mordred take the blankets at Morgana's feet and draw them over her. Then he, too, lowered himself to the bed on the side opposite to Morgause.

Morgause gave a sly smile and said in a neutral voice, "She needs us both, Mordred. Though her will is as strong as ours, her magic is of a different form. She cannot use it to protect herself and this will leave her very vulnerable. Especially as Seer magic is very draining."

"Why is that? I thought she had magic like mine…" Though his eyes were still on Morgana's face, he was listening intently to Morgause's words.

"A Seer has to overcome mental barriers anytime she tries to commune with a person's past, present or future. It was lucky that I was able to have her stay under my guidance this past year. She has learnt how to control her powers which otherwise would have controlled her."

Morgause stroked Morgana's hair fondly and gave Mordred a genuine smile for the first time. "She will be happy that we have been acquainted when she wakes."

Both were silent for some time, while outside the walls of the castle, a kingdom waited on tenterhooks.

Morgause had quickly formulated a plan in her mind and she needed only Mordred's word of acquiescence to ensure success.

"You understand why I had to use Uther's body, don't you?" Morgause asked.

Mordred looked at her, trying to read her face. "Yes. No one in the kingdom would have accepted you if they had not seen Uther place the crown on your head. Is it true though? Is he your father?"

"Yes," she said viciously. "Unfortunately, he is. Mordred, I want to change this land that Uther has corrupted. Perhaps…" and here she looked at Mordred to gauge his reaction. "Perhaps it is a blessing that Arthur is dead. It will be much easier for _us_ to return magic to this kingdom."

"Us?" A hint of ambition and longing surfaced in Mordred's frosty blue eyes.

Morgause stood abruptly and came around the bed to face him. "You will be my first in command. Everyone will worship and fear you. You will have the world at your feet."

Their eyes met and each face held an identical calculating expression.

Morgause looked away from his piercing eyes and asked softly, "Do I have your allegiance?"

Mordred's gaze returned once more to the figure beside him, who was oblivious to her surroundings.

He rose unexpectedly and Morgause nearly took a step back in fear of his refusal. But the next moment, Mordred knelt at her feet, giving Morgana one last look before bowing his head.

Mordred spoke slowly and deliberately. "You have my fealty with Morgana as a bond between us. Upon her life, I will follow your lead…as long as you both are on the same side."

Morgause could barely contain her jubilance at having attained such an ally. She fluidly pulled a sword from a decorative piece on Morgana's wall.

Mordred felt the touch of cool metal on both his shoulders as she spoke. "Arise, Sir Mordred. First knight of our Camelot."

He rose to his feet, pleased at her spontaneous gesture.

While she had Mordred at command, she did not want to stall. Morgause wanted to strike while the iron was hot. "We must act quickly. I have brought a small army with me, but this is not enough to keep Camelot safe. I have a special mission for you. I need you to find every able magician from the Continent and from around the Island and send them to Camelot. It is integral that we localize magic here, in one place, where it can be controlled and used appropriately. Otherwise, we shall have chaos." As she explained her plan to Mordred, she paced up and down the room.

"How will I find them if they have been in hiding for so long?"

Morgause gave him a sharp look and resumed her instructions. "You will have no trouble on the Continent since they still follow the Old Religion. That is where you must go first. As for here, I feel that once they hear of my coronation, they will lower their guard and come out of hiding. This could take some time…" she paused and tactfully said, "I know this will be difficult…perhaps you would like some help. I can send word to one of my trusted friends…"

Mordred's face darkened. He interrupted her. "There will be no need for an escort, my queen. I am more than capable of performing this task myself."

Morgause smiled knowingly at his need to prove himself. "Then you must leave immediately. You do not need to answer to anyone. Do whatever it takes. Should anyone stand in your way…"

"…no one will stand in my way once they see my dragon form." He completed her sentence for her. In his mind's eye, Mordred could picture the looks of awe that he had seen on Morgana's and Morgause's face multiplied thousand-fold on the faces of those he would meet.

She nodded approvingly and gestured out the window. "You remember where we left my army. On your way out, tell Lobard to secure the perimeter around Camelot and ask him to come pay his respects to his Queen."

"When Morgana wakes up…" Mordred began.

Morgause almost rolled her eyes at his single-minded devotion. "I will tell her that you have served Camelot well and I will ask her to communicate with you. Keep your mind open to her."

Mordred stone-faced expression softened as he said, "My mind will always be open to her." He drank in Morgana's appearance knowing that he would not see her for some time. He lifted her hand to his face and allowed his lips to linger on her fingers.

"Farewell, Sir Mordred. May you succeed," Morgause said with a tone of finality.

Mordred dropped Morgana's hand quickly, inclined his head to Morgause and swept from the room.

Morgause saw his cloak disappearing around the corner. She had resolved one challenge by sending Mordred out of the way for some time and getting her own work done in the process. Now, when Morgana awoke to a new Camelot, she would be able to allay her fears without Mordred's interference. And if this affection went both ways, then Morgana's loyalty to Morgause would be strengthened after hearing of Mordred's willingness to serve under the new rule.

Morgause took off the crown and shook her hair, looking out the window of _her _castle. She twirled the crown between her fingers and thought of her other sibling, whom she knew to be far away leading his knights to a slaughtering.

So, she had stretched the truth a bit….but the fact was that if he wasn't dead yet, he soon would be. The war with Alvarr had been dragging on for too long and that was surely not a good sign for Camelot's men. She had no wish to seek out and kill Arthur herself. As long as he stayed out of her way, she would be happy to let him live his life anonymously. Though she wished he would stay away for his own sake, she knew that was unlikely as she had experienced Arthur's nobility firsthand. If he survived, he would return to claim the throne for himself shouting, "For the love of Camelot!"

Morgause grinned at his stupidity. _She _was the firstborn and had Uther treated her mother with respect, she would never have had to start her reign with these underhand methods.

She twirled a lock of her hair and leaned out of the window. When Lobard came, she would tell him to keep an eye out for Arthur and his army…_or whatever was left of it_.

Morgause placed the crown back on her head.

The Queen exited Morgana's chambers and walked regally towards the Great Hall.

The guards at the door bowed and opened the doors for her. She saw fear in their eyes and knew that the story of how she had intimidated some guards into arresting Gaius must have spread fast. She covered the length of the hall, savouring her triumph.

Morgause sat on the throne and saw two servants tripping over each other to bring food to her.

The new Queen threw her head back and laughed, feeling her mother's laughter mingle with hers.


	10. Chapter 9

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: Merci beaucoup to all our lovely readers for reading, and our dearest reviewers for reviewing! _

_We hope the following chapter enthralls you, as we present the Merlin & Gwen detective agency to the rescue :D Let us know if it is up to your "standard of edibility"...because don't we all wish some stories were edible? Ours would be cheesecake._

* * *

**Chapter 9**

"Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend."

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

* * *

The night air was frigid and Merlin pulled his jacket closer to his thin frame.

He saw his mother's eyes fill with tears and he shook his head at her. "I'll come to visit you soon, I promise." They had spent the afternoon reminiscing while Merlin helped Hunith with her chores. It had been like old times, before Camelot and Gaius and Kilgharrah…and Arthur.

The mother and son were separated by some distance. Merlin looked around one last time, making sure that no one else was about.

The whole village was asleep.

He waved at her sadly and whispered the spell after closing his eyes. "_Ándagian." _As he was disappearing, he mentally removed the protective barriers he himself had placed on all of Camelot, which ensured that magic could not cross through in any form.

The smoke and wind billowed around him, but he thought resolutely only of Gaius' chambers. He had become practiced enough in the art of teleporting in the last year that he no longer coughed at the cloud of dust that always accompanied the journey.

He saw Hunith's face fade before him as the familiar setting of Gaius' workbench materialized. Merlin rubbed his eyes to get rid of the dust and vowed that one day, when Arthur was King and all was settled, he would find a way to make teleportation less conspicuous and more comfortable.

He could see the silhouettes of the potion bottles and books on the table. He lit a candle and made his way towards Gaius' cot, but it was empty. Merlin was puzzled since it was past midnight, but he supposed that Gaius had been summoned to wait upon the King.

He let out an impatient sigh. Now he would have to wait till Gaius returned to tell him everything.

Merlin stifled a yawn and headed up the three steps to his room. The door was already open and the candlelight illuminated all his possessions lying about untouched. He felt a surge of affection towards Gaius. Usually, even when Merlin was away for a couple of hours, he would return to find a part of his room spick and span…but this time, Gaius had preserved everything as he had left it.

He nearly dropped the candle in surprise when his eyes fell upon a still figure in his bed. Merlin slowly tiptoed toward the head of the bed and placed the candle on the floor. The covers were drawn over the person fully and he saw the slight rise and fall of the sheets with the intruder's breathing.

Merlin exhaled with relief…at least this person was alive...

In one motion, Merlin swiftly pulled the covers off.

"GWEN!" he yelled in a mixture of shock and confusion.

A blood curdling scream rang in his ears and flailing hands tried to swipe at his face as Gwen shot upright.

Merlin tried to dodge her attack and said in a panicked voice, "It's okay, Gwen. It's me…it's Merlin."

Gwen's hands fell limply to her lap and she looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Merlin? No…it can't be. I'm dreaming!" She tried to pinch herself, but the image of him did not waver.

Merlin thought it was safe to sit down. He noticed redness around her eyes and tearstains on her cheeks. Before he had fully lowered himself, Gwen flung herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck as she sobbed into his chest.

He held her tight and tried to decipher her frantic words.

"I thought you were…I can't believe you're here. I heard you and Arthur…but I'm so happy to see you, Merlin."

Merlin patted her back, in what he hoped was a comforting manner. _She must know everything... but how? It must be Arthur's doing. But the Prince couldn't have returned yet…perhaps he sent a messenger ahead? _He could not believe that Arthur could be such a _prat_ as to spread the news of his magic and supposed betrayal far and wide. But maybe the Prince had changed. He felt a little stir of anger, but was glad that at least his friend, Gwen, had not shunned him entirely.

"Oh, Gwen…I'm sorry if this has caused you pain." Merlin felt extremely guilty. First, that she had been waiting to talk to him even though she could have easily accepted Arthur's perspective. And second, because she seemed more than broken-hearted about her love and her friend parting ways. "I should have told you personally much, much earlier, Gwen. You are one of my closest friends," he added.

Gwen raised her head and tried to console him. "The King just made the announcement this afternoon. How could you have come any earlier?"

Merlin raised his eyebrows in astonishment. "The King? He made a public address about this matter?"

"Of course. It affects our entire kingdom, Merlin." Gwen had stopped crying, for which Merlin was very grateful, but she now looked perplexed.

"It does?" He gave a grimace. "I guess my magic is still a crime even though it won us the war."

Gwen let go of him. "What?"

Merlin was taken-aback by the sharpness of her voice. He reached for her hand. "Yes, Gwen. I know it is hard for you to accept my magic and I am grateful that you are not reacting the way that Arthur did. I had to leave Arthur…not everyone is as understanding as you."

Gwen jumped to her feet, pulling her hand away. She shot daggers at him with her eyes. "You have _magic_? And you _left _him! It's all your fault!" Gwen said unreasonably, her voice becoming stronger as she realized the implications of Merlin's magic. She pieced together the puzzle about Merlin that had always intrigued her. _"You_ were the one who was with him when he defeated the dragon. _You _always knew things that nobody else did. I know _now_ that you saved his life all those times and he, too, has returned the favour to you. Why did you leave him when he needed you most?" She pointed dramatically out the window for emphasis. "My prince is lying dead somewhere out there and it's all…your…._fault_!" Her voice was quiet but shook with an undercurrent of anger as she turned away from him. "And it's only a matter of time before Uther dies… and now_ Morgause_ is Queen…everything Arthur has fought for is dead with him."

Merlin was flabbergasted. He had never seen Gwen so angry in her life, not even when her father had died. In truth, Merlin was a little scared of Gwen. He had felt somewhat reassured when he thought that she had supported him, but now, she appeared to be even angrier than Arthur had seemed when he had found out. Merlin felt dizzy as he tried to process her words.

"Arthur is _not _dead," Merlin said firmly as he rose from his bed. "My destiny lies with him, and my destiny still lives."

Gwen could not help but feel a bubble of hope springing from her heart at his words. She turned back to face Merlin, looking at him desperately as though willing his claim to be true.

"Gwen, I'm telling you the truth. I left him not four days ago, and that was after annihilating Alvarr's army. At first we were being massacred by Alvarr, so I was forced to use magic to combat them, but Arthur saw everything…." Merlin wasn't sure whether to continue, but spoke again after seeing Gwen hanging on to his every word. "Arthur is on his way home, he is only delayed because of the numerous injured knights. There isn't much left of the army that set out from Camelot, but the few remaining are led by their prince."

She did not know what to believe…but there was certainty and sureness ringing in Merlin's tone.

"Merlin…swear to me what you say is true," she said hesitantly as her voice trembled a little.

Merlin looked straight into her eyes and said, "I swear to you, Gwen. Arthur is as alive as you and me."

She saw only truth in his gaze and Gwen felt her knees weaken as she slowly sank to the ground. She drew her knees to her and felt her back hit the hard wall as she huddled against it. She was barely aware of Merlin lowering himself next to her. They both sat in silence for some time. Gwen felt her sorrows slowly being lifted away from her. She wanted to cry with relief, but knew that she would not let herself do that until she had Arthur safe in her arms.

Gwen turned her head to the left and saw that Merlin was staring straight ahead into space. When he noticed her movement, he turned his head towards her. When their eyes met, they reached an unspoken understanding.

Gwen knew that they had been friends from the moment she had seen him in the stocks and she realized that they would remain friends until the day they died. They were united by their deep affection for each other and for Arthur.

Guinevere felt calmer and she could now collect her thoughts. Looking at Merlin's boyish, innocent face she could not believe that she had doubted his integrity. Goodness radiated from every pore of his being and she felt mortified as she thought of her harsh words.

"I'm so sorry, Merlin," Gwen said sincerely. "I got carried away with my own fears." She placed her hand on his knee. "About your magic - it doesn't matter to me. You're still the same strange Merlin…" She felt her face breaking into a smile which she couldn't contain. "And I don't mean that in a nasty way."

Merlin returned her smile warmly and squeezed her hand. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me. It wasn't my choice to leave Arthur. I vowed that I would stay away until he could trust me."

"Arthur trusts you, Merlin…he just doesn't know it yet." A pleasant thrill went down Gwen's spine when she spoke Arthur's name, now that she knew that she would see him soon. He was alive…

"Merlin, you have to take me to him," Gwen said with optimism ringing in every syllable.

"I cannot. At least not right now."

"_Please _Merlin," Gwen said pleadingly. She came closer to him. "You don't know what I've been through. I can't stand to be here another moment longer."

"I know it is difficult, but you need to tell me what has happened here. You said Morgause is Queen," Merlin stated resolutely, trying to keep his focus from wandering, as he remembered the dragon's warnings. "How did this come to be?"

"I don't know. Uther gave an address this afternoon announcing Arthur's death. Uther didn't look far from death himself. He proclaimed Morgause to be the new ruler of Camelot, because of his failing health."

Merlin knew something was terribly wrong. "I need to speak with Gaius. He will probably know the whole story. Gwen, you stay here and keep a lookout in case Gaius comes back and I'll go look for him."

Merlin started to move towards the door, but Gwen pulled him back. "You don't understand. _You _stay here and I'll look for Gaius. Everyone thinks you're dead. They think we've lost the war and that all of Camelot's armies are gone."

Before Merlin could protest, Gwen swept out the door, glad that she had something to do.

Merlin collapsed on the bed in shock at how much had changed in the last few days. He could not imagine how Morgause had gained power over Uther. And Uther had gone from being in perfect health to near death in a matter of weeks...

The suspicion that had always been nagging in the back of his mind, returned to the forefront…

_Morgana_…

Merlin was lost in his thoughts of how the fall of Uther's Camelot _had _to be an insider's betrayal.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but heard quick footsteps entering Gaius' chambers. He ran to his door and jumped over the three steps to land in Gaius' room.

Gwen had just shut the door to the physician's quarters and turned to face him. "Merlin, you won't believe this! Gaius has been arrested! I spoke to a maid in the kitchen who had taken food to the dungeons earlier. What are we going to do?" Though Gwen was worried, the colour had returned to her face and that noble look of wanting to help others was back on her face.

"We must get him out of Camelot. Gaius knows too much and he's in danger under Morgause's rule." Merlin paused as he tried to think of a suitable place for Gaius to go. He clapped his hands together. "I've got just the place where he'll be safe and useful until Morgause is overthrown! Gwen, you get Gaius' supplies together and I'll go break him out of the dungeons."

Gwen smiled knowingly and hastily grabbed Gaius' travelling bag. "This has everything in it and I'm coming with you, Merlin. You are sending _both _of us to Arthur."

"What about Morgana? Won't she worry if you are gone?" Merlin asked, hoping to deter Gwen because he did not want to arouse Morgana's suspicion.

Gwen would miss her oldest friend, but she knew that Morgana would be well with her sister. "She'll be fine, Merlin. Morgause will look after her."

Merlin didn't ask how Gwen knew about the connection between Morgana and Morgause. He picked a few of Gaius' most trusted books and threw them in the travelling bag. "We better get going then," said Merlin with resignation. He put the bag over his shoulders.

Gwen suddenly gave an evil grin. "I'm touched to see that you are worried about Morgana." Merlin could have sworn that she whispered "as usual" after her statement, but he ignored that part. "You know, you two have more in common than you think," she said slyly as she left Gaius' chambers ahead of Merlin.

Merlin hung back at the door, shaking his head…_Gwen just doesn't get it. _

* * *

Merlin and Gwen paused at the top of the stairs leading to the dungeons. They hid behind the pillar and peeked down cautiously.

Two helmets glinted in the firelight and one of the knights gloomily tossed the dice.

"I won that round," he said half-heartedly. The other knight nodded and picked up the dice to resume another game. Neither of their minds was in the game, as they had heard from their friends that the King they had been serving for over twenty-five years was dead.

"How will we distract them?" Gwen whispered conspiratorially.

Merlin put his finger to his lips and slipped around her so that he was directly above them. He lowered his hand and moved it sharply to the left. The dice below, to Gwen's surprise, shot quickly off the table to the left mirroring Merlin's action.

The knights looked at each other in confusion and one of the knights got to his feet. Merlin flicked his hand again and the dice rolled down the dark staircase that led to the cellars. As one knight pursued the dice down the stairs, his companion grabbed a torch and followed to give his friend some light.

Merlin and Gwen quickly ran down the stairs and glanced towards the staircase where the knights had disappeared.

Merlin gave Gwen a cheeky smile and inclined his head. "Works every time!"

She laughed quietly in appreciation as they hurried through the corridor to their right.

They looked right and left in every cell for Gaius. Merlin skidded to a stop when he saw an old man with hunched shoulders lying on the uncomfortable straw in one of the cells.

Merlin unlocked the door with a spell. He let Gwen rush in first and quietly closed and locked the door behind him.

Gaius awoke, feeling Gwen's hand touch his shoulder. He did not make a sound, but when his eyes fell on Merlin, he clutched his hand to his heart in relief. "Oh thank the heavens. You are alright, Merlin."

Gaius unsteadily got to his feet aided by Gwen as Merlin's quick strides covered the distance between them. Gaius hugged Merlin tightly, happy and relieved to have his adopted son back safely.

They heard some noises in the hallway and Merlin took Gwen's hand, pulling her to a dark corner. They both lay down, covering themselves with straw while Gaius resumed his initial position, with one eye open.

The guards walked by and looked into Gaius' cell but not sensing anything amiss, they continued on.

The three prisoners all exhaled simultaneously.

"How did you get in here, Merlin? It's not safe! Everyone thinks you're dead!" Gaius said under his breath, trying not to draw attention to their cell. "What about Arthur? Is it true?"

Merlin stepped out of the shadows and shook the straw out of his dark hair. "No, Arthur is alive. We've won the war, but it came with a price. I had to reveal my magic and leave Arthur and his few remaining knights because of it."

Gaius warmly squeezed Gwen's hand. "I am glad to hear that Arthur is alive. Merlin, do not worry…I know that you will not be separated from Arthur for long. I can't believe Morgause fed us such lies. I am here because of her doing. I found Uther dead at her feet when I went to find out what was going on just moments after that public address, and I know that she used his dead body as a medium for her own gain."

Gwen gasped, "You mean Uther was already dead when he gave that announcement?"

Merlin felt _nothing_ upon hearing that Uther was dead, though the sudden nature of his demise surprised him slightly. He knew it had long been time for Arthur to assume the throne. He only felt pity at the way Uther's end had come and how his body had been treated disrespectfully by Morgause to achieve her own ends.

"I am sure of it. That is why they have imprisoned me. I alone know the truth of everything that has happened here."

"_They?"_Merlin asked curiously. "I thought Morgause acted alone."

"There was a young man with her that I have never seen before. But…I felt as though he was familiar. He had dark hair…and blue eyes." He saw Merlin's face in the dim light and added, "Just like you, in fact. Yet, he seemed very cold. I don't know who he was but he seemed in very high standing with Morgause."

Merlin did not have a good feeling about this stranger, but cast his suspicion aside as Gaius continued.

"And it wasn't just him. I've been thinking about this while I have been sitting here and I am afraid Morgana has not been on our side. On the contrary, I think it was she that caused Uther's death."

Gwen looked at Gaius with mistrust. "No…Gaius, it can't be true." But even as Gwen spoke, her heart sank. She knew Morgana was changed…

"She has been getting sicker coinciding with Uther's passing into the world of his hallucinations. Morgana must have used her Seer magic to break his mental barriers and open the floodgates of his memories." Gaius was saddened at how Morgana's fate had led her to turn against her own guardian.

Gwen could not dispute the fact of Morgana's betrayal and fell silent. Morgana herself had said to Gwen that her powers could make others See their past.

Merlin twiddled his fingers anxiously.

"Gaius you can't stay here…it's not safe. I'm going to send you and Gwen to Arthur. You need to treat the injured knights and tell Arthur about what has happened here. When Arthur returns to Camelot, there will be no dispute as to who is King," said Merlin, taking Gaius' bag off his shoulders and handing it to the rightful owner.

Gaius shook his head emphatically. "No, Merlin. There's more that you don't know. The real problem is that Morgause has just much of a claim as Arthur. She is Uther's firstborn and though illegitimate, now that Uther has seemingly declared her his heir…I am afraid Arthur will face some challenges."

"This keeps getting more and more complicated. Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" Merlin asked Gaius furiously. "How much more do I have to do to prove to you that I am ready to help you with your burdens?"

Gaius placed his hand on Merlin's shoulder. "It wasn't a question of that. I swore to Uther that I would keep a lot of secrets…I know that it's time to tell you everything…"

They heard some noises again and Gwen looked up sharply.

Merlin said with exasperation, "There's no time. You need to leave…_now_! I am going to use you as a vessel so that you can hold the magic while you take Gwen to Arthur."

"Aren't you coming with us?" Gwen enquired.

Merlin felt tempted for a moment, but he was slowly realizing what the dragon had intended for him. "No, I must stay here. For Arthur's future."

Gwen wanted to protest, but Gaius shook his head and she became quiet.

Merlin closed his eyes as Gwen and Gaius grasped hands.

_Kilgharrah, where are you? Have you found Arthur? _Merlin opened his eyes a minute later with the answer he wanted.

Gaius opened his mouth and Merlin urgently whispered, "Not now!"

Merlin lifted Gaius' hand to feed the magic through his veins, focusing on the location that the Great Dragon had communicated to him. The barriers around Camelot, he knew, were still down. As he was about to whisper the spell that would take the once-magical physician and the non-magical handmaiden to the fallen prince, Gaius stopped him.

"There is something you _must _know. Be careful of Morgana and Morgause. They are half-sisters connected through their mother…you _know _of their mother…"

Merlin pursed his lips as Gaius whispered her name into his ear. He did not know what to say, but only knew that it made sense in a twisted way.

"Don't worry about me, Gaius. Take care of yourself." He met Gwen's eyes and forced a smile to reassure her. He muttered the spell to teleport them.

As the smoke swirled around the trio, Merlin let go of Gaius' hand. They disappeared with a loud rush of wind.

Merlin began to replace the barriers around Camelot. These barriers prevented magical influences from entering or leaving the city. However, within the protective sphere, one could still use magic freely. Merlin had studied for many months to learn how to place these protective spells around Camelot when they had first heard that Alvarr had started gaining power. He had been afraid that Alvarr would influence Camelot from well beyond its borders with his magic. He did not know whether they actually worked, but they made him feel safer.

He heard guards approaching the cell, and quickly teleported himself to Gaius' chambers.

Merlin stood alone in the middle of Gaius' room, knowing he had sent away the only people who would welcome him in this city.

He had finally begun to understand the dragon's cryptic message. His mission had become clear. He would do to Morgause's Camelot what Morgana had done to Uther's.

He would bring it down from the inside.


	11. Chapter 10

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: You guys are awesome for reading and reviewing! A billion thanks to everyone! Makes us feel so special :)_

_So...what to say about this chapter? Only that it took over a month to write because we wanted to get it absolutely right. In fact, this is the chapter that jump-started the entire story because once we had this idea...the rest just fell into place. Here it is...we present to you the entire backstory, affectionately referred to as "The Pendragon Affairs" by one of us (the other doesn't like that title so much). Whatever it is called, we really hope you like it. It's a monster of a chapter - something like 20,000 words and 43 pages on MSWord! _

_One more thing - like Chapter 6 with Merlin and the Great Dragon, we imagine that the flashbacks are for your eyes as readers (that is not to say the flashbacks aren't important, they are immensely crucial to the plot)...but, the characters only know what storyteller extraordinaire (i.e. Gaius) tells them._

_We've put a lot of effort, caffeine and love into this chapter so please do tell us what you think! _

* * *

**Chapter 10**

"He wanted all to lie in an ecstasy of peace; I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. I said his heaven would be only half alive; and he said mine would be drunk: I said I should fall asleep in his; and he said he could not breathe in mine..."

~ Emily Brontë

"Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart—you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine."

~ Emily Brontë

* * *

A cool breeze rustled the branches of the trees as yellow and orange leaves fell noiselessly to the ground.

A curly haired figure appeared from thin air, clutching the hand of a frail, elderly man. She looked around uncertainly, her eyes searching for something in the dark forest. The elderly man pointed in the direction of what seemed to be a faint glow of fire, flickering among the trees.

The girl was gone in a flash, before the old man could even blink.

He called out after her. "Gwen, be careful!" He lifted his robes and fastened his bag as he quickened his pace to follow her.

* * *

Arthur's blue eyes were filled with frustration and regret. He stabbed his blade into the ground aimlessly.

The knights stood huddled around a fire, a little ways from where Arthur stood. Somber looks were found on all their faces as they thought of memories they had shared with Sir Percival. He was another one of their comrades that they had had the misfortune of losing in the past few days.

Arthur stabbed the sword deeper into the ground.

They had buried Sir Percival just hours earlier under an oak tree, barely a few paces from their camp. Their initially temporary camp was slowly becoming a permanent settlement due to the spread of infection among the injured. It was near impossible for them to travel now.

There were now as many ill knights as healthy ones and though Arthur was desperate to send news to Camelot, the one messenger he _had_ sent had returned within a day looking completely lost and disoriented. That was exactly how Arthur felt – lost and disoriented. Was he to send another man, only to have him get lost in this godforsaken forest? Or should he go himself?

Arthur didn't know what to do anymore. Though it was chilly where Arthur stood, he did not move towards the fire. He could not face his men…

They still looked upon him with utmost loyalty, but he no longer felt worthy as their leader.

He turned his back on the tents that now housed the wounded, but he couldn't get away from the stench of inevitable death that filled his nostrils.

The able knights were making ready for bed under the night stars, willingly giving up their living quarters so that their ailing friends would not have to share. Every night, one of them would make up Arthur's bed in his tent. But Arthur would, without fail, drag out his blankets to sleep on the ground beside his knights.

Today, it was Lancelot's turn. He gathered the Prince's bedding and headed towards the tent, giving Arthur a comforting look of support, which Arthur found exceedingly annoying.

Just then, he heard crunching of fallen leaves as footsteps quickly approached the encampment. Before Arthur had time to draw his sword from the ground, a small, dark figure emerged from the trees and leapt onto him.

He staggered backwards in surprise, but his arms instinctively circled the maiden's waist as she clung to his neck. He breathed in the familiar scent of her hair and everything that had been bothering him for the past few weeks vanished.

He slipped his hand through her curls and lifted her higher off the ground. Arthur felt her whole body trembling. He tried to pull himself away so he could look at her face, but she held him in an iron-like grip.

Arthur started to speak. "Guinevere?" he said in disbelief. "How did you…"

His words were swallowed by her fierce kiss. He returned her kiss with equal fervor…

And then, her lips left his and were everywhere…on his nose, his eyelids, his cheeks, his forehead.

Arthur felt the heat rising up his neck. He had never seen this side of Gwen before, not even in his fantasies. And suddenly, he was very aware that all of his knights must be watching him in complete shock.

Somewhere in the back of Arthur's mind, he realized that after this display in front of his knights, it was only a matter of time before the entire court knew of his secret relationship. Once they returned to Camelot, it would not be long before his father heard of this...

But at the moment, it was hard to care...

Arthur closed his eyes in complete bliss and pulled her even closer. His lips blindly met her cheek and he tasted salty tears. Confusion invaded into his dreamlike state and he lowered her carefully to the ground. Her arms left his neck, but wrapped around his waist instead.

He cupped her face in both his hands and with his thumbs, wiped away the tears that were streaming from her eyes.

She did not allow his gaze to rest on her for long before she nestled her head against his chest. She felt the speedy thud of his heart beat against her ear and she said for the first time what she had long known.

"I love you, Arthur. I love you so much."

At her words, she felt Arthur's body tense up for a brief moment before relaxing. He kissed the top of her head and they both stood locked in each other's embrace.

The knights were already frozen in shock, but when Gaius appeared at the clearing, catching his breath, they thought they were surely hallucinating.

Gaius looked from the intertwined couple to the knights, the majority of who had their mouths slightly open. He set down his healing bag and cleared his throat loudly.

Gwen peeled herself away from Arthur, recognizing the source of the disturbance. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she took in the dumbfounded expression on the knights' faces. She jumped away from Arthur self-consciously.

Arthur, for a moment, looked disappointed at the sudden loss of contact but then caught sight of the audience. He quickly arranged his face into a neutral expression and folded his arms, but Gaius caught a sheepish grin escape the Prince's countenance.

Gaius wanted to laugh, but the heaviness in his heart reminded him of his painful duty.

"Gaius!" Arthur said jovially, as though court physicians wandered lonely parts of the forest all the time. "What brings you here?"

Gwen wanted to speak, but the look on Gaius' face silenced her. She looked back and forth between Gaius and Arthur.

Arthur's pleasant manner slowly faded as he realized that their arrival did not necessarily herald fair tidings. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly. He looked from Gwen's to Gaius' face expectantly, but both looked stricken and neither responded. "One of you, tell me what's going on!" he added impatiently.

"Sire…" Gaius said carefully, "I think it is best you sit down for this news. There is much to tell."

Arthur frowned, but indicated to the fire.

As the Prince approached the fire, the knights dispersed, sensing that privacy was needed. Besides, they were itching to discuss the new development between the Prince and the handmaiden.

Gaius sat across the fire from Arthur, but Gwen hesitantly took a seat beside Arthur and took his hand in hers. He gave her a small smile and returned his attention to Gaius.

"Speak, Gaius. Did my father hear about our plight and send you both here to help us?"

Gaius shook his head sadly. He took a deep breath and said as delicately as he could, "I am afraid not, Arthur. I am sorry to tell you that your father…King Uther…is no longer. He passed away this morning."

Gaius looked away to give Arthur some time to process his words.

Gwen searched Arthur's face for his response, but besides a death-like grip on her hand and his clenched jaw, his expression did not change. His face was void of any emotion and he sat as still a rock.

The minutes seemed to crawl by. The knights could be heard murmuring in the distance. The heavy silence around the fire amplified the sounds of the forest in their midst.

Arthur finally spoke in a monotone voice. "What does this mean for the kingdom? What must I do next?"

Gwen felt her heart break for the young Prince that she so dearly loved. She wanted to take his head in her lap and let him cry. She was neither happy nor upset at Uther's death for her own sake, but for Arthur's – she was gravely distressed. He was placing his duties as a Prince above his emotions as a son by not allowing himself to grieve for his father. Her knuckles had turned white in his grip, but she held his hand just as tight hoping to convey her unwavering empathy.

Gaius looked at Arthur with pity, knowing that he had to deliver more painful news. "I only have a guess as to how this happened, but as for what you must do next…I am afraid there have been further complications. You remember the witch, Morgause. She has claimed the Pendragon's throne…"

Arthur's eyebrows shot up his forehead and the throbbing of a vein was visibly prominent on his neck. Anger filled him from head to toe as he stood up enraged. "How dare she! What right does she have? After everything my father has fought for…" He looked for his sword wildly as though he would single-handedly march into Camelot and oust Morgause from the throne. "I will fight her in my father's name…" Arthur said rashly.

He took pleasure in his anger for it allowed him to channel the grief that was overwhelming him.

Gwen fearfully grabbed his hand and urged him to sit back down. "Arthur, you need to hear everything first! Everyone thinks that you are dead! I thought that I had lost you forever. Please don't do something in haste that you will regret," Gwen begged.

Arthur looked at her pleading dark eyes and lowered himself to the rock, understanding why she had been so relieved to see him.

"Gwen is right, sire. I need to tell you truths that I had sworn I would never reveal." Gaius paused and looked ashamed. "I know it will be difficult not to, but please don't think any worse of me or your father. We both thought only of your best interests, but now it is impossible to avoid the consequences of past actions."

Arthur, with enormous effort, controlled his desire to act. To do…something_…anything_. To jump on a horse and ride back to Camelot and fight…because that was the only thing he knew how to do. But as he thought of what Gaius had said, he realized that it was the first time in his life that someone was offering to tell him the whole story. To answer _all _his questions. Despite the cold emptiness of his heart, he felt a tug of curiosity.

"Fine," Arthur said curtly, struggling to maintain his composure. "You will tell me all that you know."

The court physician, relieved at Arthur's grudging willingness to listen, started to speak apprehensively. "Before your father became King, the kingdom you now know was divided amongst many chieftains. Your father was the son of Ambrosius, the chieftain from Armaghevon. Ambrosius died early, but your father rose among the ranks of chieftains to quickly gain the loyalty of many. That was when I first met Uther…he was on the verge of the final hurdle to assuming the throne of what is now called Camelot. I was a magician at the time and I journeyed with my old friends to see if the Pendragon was worthy of our allegiance."

Gaius felt awkward talking of his old life, which he had renounced.

* * *

_Uther winced as the clumsy healer stitched the gaping gash on the right side of his abdomen. He had suffered this latest wound in the battle against Lord Ashton. But it was a small price to pay because in the end, Ashton had surrendered to their mighty army. Now, the only land left to conquer before this kingdom was united under the Pendragon banner was Tristan Dubois' treacherous terrain. _

_His trusted servant, Kevin, entered and bowed. "Lord Uther, there are a group of magicians who seek your audience." Kevin looked extremely troubled and tried to non-verbally advise Uther against this meeting. _

_Uther had so far avoided contact with the Old Religion's followers, but all along he had known that at some point his path would cross with the natives of this ancient island. _

_Perhaps, that time had come. _

_He pushed the healer away as he had just finished up the last stitch and addressed Kevin. "Lead them to the common tent. I will meet them when I am ready." _

_Kevin said nervously, "They bade me to tell you that the Old Religion waits for no one and they wish to see you immediately." He inclined his head towards the entrance of the tent, and Uther saw outlines of tall figures through the fabric. _

_The shadows moved forward and one by one, they entered. There were six cloaked and hooded sorcerers, and one old man whose white hair was plastered to his face because of the mist outside. _

_Uther frowned at their forwardness, but knew he could not afford to estrange himself from this small, but powerful, community. He was better off with their strange allegiance than without. He cleared his throat, trying to regain the power in the tent, which clearly was no longer his. "I welcome you, masters of the Old Religion." He thought he heard a snicker from the figure in front of him, but he ignored it. _

_Lord Uther was well aware that proper etiquette was not one of his talents, but then again, these strangers had not behaved like gracious guests either. "What can I do for you?" he asked, attempting to keep the encounter on polite terms. _

_The strangers all turned towards the one in front, whom they seemed to be very protective of. It dawned on Uther that it was actually a woman upon seeing the curves beneath the folds of her cloak and her slender frame. _

_None of the guests replied to him, but their eyes flickered between Kevin and the healer. _

_Uther, realizing the magicians' wish, waved his hand at Kevin and the healer. Both of them had been shaking in their boots in a corner and at his indication, they left the tent gladly. Uther, however, was not scared of these people. He was slightly intimidated by their mysterious air, but he was not worried because he could hold his own ground, if needed. _

_He shifted uncomfortably on his cot as all but the woman finally removed their hoods. The men were quite tall though they looked as ordinary as Kevin. They bore no mark of sorcery, but there was an aura in the room of a pulsating power older than time itself. _

_The woman, he supposed, was a wife to one of the magicians. Out of courtesy, he got to his feet unsteadily while clutching his wound to draw a chair for her. The lady sat down gracefully, her face still hidden. _

_Uther turned to the men. "I have been awaiting your presence for some time. I am more than willing that you should keep your own lands as I have no battle with your people. I only seek to unite the southern part of this island and make my capital in Camelot." _

_Again, they failed to respond. He was getting frustrated by their lack of communication and he glared at them. "One of you must speak, or I will know not what you want. I have tried to welcome you to my camp, but you seem to be mocking me by your silence." Now that he was standing, he felt more in charge of the situation._

_The old man gave a small smile at Uther's proud tone. Half their mission was already fulfilled. Uther would leave their lands in peace and for that, the Old Religion would reward him. Their journey had not been in vain. _

_Uther saw all of the strangers look to the woman again. He was extremely puzzled by their behaviour. "Which one of you am I addressing?" he enquired, trying to contain his anger at their contemptuous treatment of him. _

_Finally, a voice that was not his broke the palpable tension in the tent. "You address me." The lady's voice was soft, but sure. _

_As Uther turned his full attention to her in utter confusion, she pulled the hood off her face. He gulped, feeling suddenly insignificant. She was the most terribly beautiful woman he had ever seen, and yet she appeared to not be of this world. Dark waves of hair cascaded down past her shoulders. Her sharp blue eyes jumped out from her pale skin and seemed to hold knowledge and wisdom of generations that Uther knew he could never possess. _

_Uther, being a man of only twenty, had little experience with courting women, but was always receptive to the allures of the other sex__. Even though he was most content on the battlefield, his men would speak of their mistresses and Uther felt as though he was missing some great pleasures. But he had no such thoughts even enter his mind about this lady as he gazed at her with awe. She embodied the very essence of femininity and it was in a way that no man could ever tame. _

_She smiled knowingly as if she could read his thoughts. "Uther Pendragon, we will accept you as the King of Camelot. I have foreseen this. As long as you respect our ancient traditions, we will aid in your quest to keep this kingdom safe. I am a priestess of the Old Religion and I have come on behalf of my sisters to assist you till you secure your throne. The Sight has told us that you shall be a formidable King…" _

_Though Uther towered above her because of her seated position, he felt small in her presence. The rest of the magicians relaxed at her words and stood at ease. _

_Uther found his voice. "I…thank you for coming and for offering your help." Usually, he was a very proud man and refused many a helping hand…but today, he could not decline her. He glanced around, tearing his eyes away from her piercing gaze. "All of you must dine with us this evening so we may cement this new friendship." _

_Suddenly, he nearly blushed. There were seven complete strangers in his tent and he was half clothed. He reached for his tunic, but felt a stabbing pain in his side. His face contorted into a painful grimace. _

_The old man started forward. "I can heal your wound in no time." He looked at the woman for her permission. Uther, too, looked at her instinctively for approval though he did not know why. _

"_It's alright," she said lazily with a brilliant smile. "Gaius is my friend. We have grown up together, and he will care for you well."_

"_Grown up together? But you're so…" Uther didn't finish his sentence because he felt more foolish by the minute, but all the magicians roared with laughter. _

_She said indulgingly, "Not everything is how it appears. I can stop from aging, if I wish it." She had been watching the young warlord with interest ever since entering the tent. Though his body was hardened by battle and bore a few scars, his face was still young and unblemished. As he slipped his tunic over his muted blond hair, her eyes roamed the rest of his tall frame. _

_When she had been assigned this mission by the older priestesses, she had initially thought it would be very demeaning. After all, _she,_ unlike the others, had the power to mirror life and death itself…but she knew that in the eyes of her oldest sister, she was still relatively young and so, she was volunteered for the task of guiding Uther to the throne. _

_The prophecies foretold that Uther's heir would be the one to unite Albion and lead the kingdom in the greatest age of magic. It was foreordained that this child, this boy, would be born of magic. _

_For the Old Religion, it was imperative that this Pendragon lord ascend the throne now so that the future they desired may come to pass. _

_As Uther led her companions out of his tent, she trailed slowly after the others. When she walked out of the tent, she saw that Uther had lingered at the entrance, waiting for her. _

_He bowed his head and said respectfully, "I do not even know your name, my lady."_

_She gave him her hand. "Nimueh." _

_He bent his head and kissed her outstretched hand dutifully. _

_Her pale fingers rested in his calloused palm for a moment._

_Nimueh thought bemusedly that it was fitting for truly did the hand of magic rest in his hands. _

_For his son to be born of magic, Uther had to take a woman of magical ancestry. And who better than she, the mistress of magic, to hold the heir in her womb? _

_She gave a lustful sigh and knew_ _that thought had only entered her mind because it had everything to do with her own desires and nothing to do with the prophecy. _

* * *

"You have met our leader. She was the woman who tried to kill you when you went to retrieve the morteus flower for Merlin. Her name was Nimueh." Gaius felt a shudder go through his body at the recollection of his once close friend.

"So my father _did_ know her." Arthur was staring steadily at the ground, and his voice was so quiet that Gaius had to strain his ears to catch the hurt of betrayal in Arthur's tone.

Before he could stop himself, Gaius blurted out, "He knew her very well indeed."

Arthur's eyes snapped to Gaius' face. He was ready to rise up and start ranting about how his father had fed him lies. But upon seeing the old man's sorrowful expression, he resolved to keep quiet and let Gaius finish.

"Uther had one kingdom left to conquer – that of your uncle's, Tristan. Together with Nimueh, we helped Uther strike a bargain with Tristan Dubois. He would become a vassal, an ally for Uther, in exchange for Uther marrying his young sister when she was of age…"

Arthur looked horrified at the business-like nature of the beginning of his parent's relationship, which he had always imagined to be romantic.

Seeing Arthur's face, Gaius tried to console him. "This is how things are done with Kings. It does not mean that your parents loved each other any less. The important thing, at the time, was that they secured the kingdom. Ygraine was only fourteen, so we rode away from Cape Laurrent with the promise that in six years time, Tristan would bring Ygraine to Camelot and she would be Queen."

Gaius continued watching the two young faces across the fire - they were intently listening to his tale. "Our task was complete and it appeared that he was now unchallenged as King. We bade farewell to Uther and his party, and we made our way back to our home – the Isle of the Blessed…"

* * *

_Nimueh's horse plodded on steadily, dragging its hooves through the marshes – just as her own heart felt as though it was being dragged over the murkiness of her solitude. _

_Why am I feeling this way? Why does it hurt so to leave those mortal beings behind? To leave that one in particular? All these questions were floating in Nimueh's head._

_She had lived for many moons, but this one month had seemed to contain the promised sentiments of an entire lifetime. She heard the murmurings of her brethren ahead of her, and she knew they were surprised by her reluctant pace. Gaius was riding behind her, only as a precaution, and she felt as if he could read her every thought. _

_What made him so unforgettable to her? She had seen many a man in awe of her power and beauty, but he had not shied away from her brilliance. He had respected her and looked to her for advice. _

_It was she who had negotiated with Tristan for his allegiance. He held a formidable army in his power, and though Uther could have vanquished him eventually, it would have come after a great loss of men. Tristan's demand seemed small in comparison to the alternative. _

_Nimueh had taken one look at the frail, blond girl in pigtails spinning demurely in the corner and scoffed. This was the girl to be at Uther's side? Nimueh could see her as a Queen only in title. _

_She had readily agreed to Tristan that Uther would sign the treaty, for this young thing could never amount to anything of consequence in Uther's eyes. She could never amount to anything in the world's eyes either because there was no possible way she could be the mother of such an heir, about whom the fates had foretold. _

_She went to Uther and had urged him to sign the agreement with Tristan. He appeared unsure at first, but he could not disagree with her reasoning for long. Yet when his quivering quill had touched the parchment, why did it feel as though her own future was being written off? He had glanced at her one last time with trusting eyes before signing his name. Had she betrayed his trust? Had she betrayed her own heart? _

_Her duty was done – he would be King. That much was certain. But the price was too much for her to pay. _

_She made up her mind in a flash and turned her horse suddenly._

_Gaius' horse reared in surprise and the rider held on for dear life. "My lady," Gaius shouted. "Is something wrong?"_

_Nimueh forced herself to face Gaius and lied through her teeth. "Everything is fine, Gaius. It is only that I have foreseen that Uther will be requiring more of my assistance in the days to come. I must return to him at once. You continue on and give word to my sisters." _

_Gaius watched her gallop away in surprise and saw a rain cloud thundering above her. As she became a speck in the distance, Gaius turned to his companions and they reached an unspoken agreement. _

_Aside from Nimueh's unique abilities, her noble blood was another reason why she could not be allowed to travel alone. Nimueh was the sister of Viviane who was known by many names - the Oracle, the Blessed Lady, the Great Mother. Viviane was the most esteemed of all the priestesses and the whole magical community turned to her for guidance. Viviane conveyed the will of the ancient powers of the universe to all the people. _

_Gaius resigned himself to his fate and turned his horse to follow her though he knew he could never catch up with her – as always…_

… _Far away, Uther lay in his cot, turning restlessly. They had just started making preparations for restoring the abandoned palace in Camelot. The whole afternoon had been spent celebrating Uther's bloodless victory over Tristan. There had been drinking, dancing, merrymaking…_

_Ever since he had said goodbye to the magicians, he had gone through the motions of celebrating, but inwardly had withdrawn himself. Before he had met her, he had been a sure, proud warrior who was confident in his abilities to be King. But the past month had made him so dependent on her…and even his new friend, Gaius. He felt alone, and for the first time, that bothered him. _

_Nimueh…she had entered his life like a storm and had left as suddenly as she had come. He was filled with respect for her intelligence and hung on to every word of her counsel. He was not someone who easily placed his trust in others, but her wisdom had commanded in him a faith in her. On one hand, he felt small in her eyes and on the other, he wanted to be worthy of the potential King that she saw in him. _

_A part of him wanted to rage at her for convincing him to sign away his love to a woman, nay – a girl - he had never seen. He wanted to rebel against her wish, but he had learnt quickly that he could never deny her anything. _

_Now she was gone…and he couldn't even ask her what would happen when he _did_ fall in love with someone. He would have to honor his promise to the Dubois family – and in the process, he would be miserable. If he didn't keep his word, it wasn't fair to that Ygraine girl either. _

_He heard a clap of thunder and the raindrops pelted heavily on his tent. He sat up in his bed and held his head in his hands in frustration. _

_Well…he had given up his right to marry another but he had every right to do what he wished tonight. _

_Feeling slightly more spirited than before, Uther strode to the mouth of the tent and stooped slightly, determined to find the last of the merrymakers. Perhaps, that pretty serving girl that had been eyeing him earlier was still there in the common tent…_

_The minute he stepped outside, rain crashed down on him and his vision was blurred. As he shook the water out of his eyes, he saw a vision materialize before him. _

_A flash of lightning illuminated Nimueh's face. Her cloak had fallen off during her furious journey in her eagerness to reach him and now, she stood before him feeling very exposed. He was the only man who could quench her thirst and for the first time in her life, she stood there not knowing what to do. _

_Uther's eyes took in her drenched gown, which clung to her every curve. She was, as she had always been, an apparition from another world. His gaze followed a raindrop that made its way down the curve of her neck to her bare shoulder. He shook himself at his impudence, he had never before looked at her this way. And yet, if that raindrop was real…then she, as unattainable as she was, must be real too…_

_He hesitantly reached out and touched her arm. He expected the angel, the fairy, the goddess, to vanish. But instead, she closed her eyes and her chest heaved with shallow breaths. His hand closed around her wrist and he pulled her close. Without thinking, his lips found hers…his kiss was reckless, exploring her soft, full lips. She was intoxicating and he felt enveloped in her aura. But when he felt her hands travel up his back, he broke the kiss and stepped away, using up the very last remnants of his willpower. He could barely meet her eyes and looked upon her with the deepest apology, expecting to be reprimanded for his audacity. _

_He saw only what he thought was deep affection in her eyes. He realized that perhaps she was indulging him out of pity. He bowed his head and released her, stepping away, allowing her to leave. _

_Nimueh only moved closer and she lifted his chin to face her. Uther closed his eyes before he could see her dark, lustful ones. She rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to the corner of his lips and Uther lost what little restraint he had left. He pulled her into the tent and began to undo the fastenings of her dress with fumbling hands. She waited patiently till her dress dropped to the floor and took his hand, guiding him to the small cot. As she lay down, she pulled him on top of her and tugged his nightshirt over his head. Her hands roamed his chest, tracing his scars with her nails. His breath hitched in pleasure and she saw with satisfaction that his face was beet red. His rough, inexperienced hands traveled up her body to her face._

_He was kissing her with passion, one hand tangled in her hair and the other grasping her tightly, as though she was his last hold on freedom. When they broke apart, both were breathing heavily. Though Uther desired the idea of her at the moment, the look in her eyes was almost feral. For an instant, he was frightened. _

* * *

"…But when we had nearly reached, Nimueh turned back, insisting that Uther required her help still. So I accompanied her back towards Uther's camp. Camelot was but an idea at the time. The castle you now know was abandoned in a forgotten town when we came to it." Gaius cleared his throat and continued evenly. "Uther basically built the kingdom from scratch with Nimueh's guidance. When Camelot had been reconstructed about three months after Uther's coronation, there was a banquet to celebrate the achievement. That night…"

* * *

_Uther roamed the castle rather aimlessly, nodding his approval to a servant here and there and in general was supervising the castle for the evening banquet. His hands were behind his back as he strolled leisurely towards the kitchens, from which delicious smells were wafting. _

_The door was open and when Uther peeked in, he saw a figure that was all too familiar. Her back was to him and her long black hair, which normally fell openly down her back, had been tied into a braid. He heard her mystical voice and expected something profound from her lips, but instead, only the most menial instructions rolled off her tongue. _

"_Joanna, take those cups to the dining hall and when you are finished, bring the clean tablecloths to me. I wish to inspect them. There should not be a speck of dust on my King Uther's table today." She turned and smiled at Uther, not surprised to see him standing in the doorway. _

_He smiled uncomfortably and continued on. _

_All through the banquet, Uther's thoughts were elsewhere. _

_Had he reduced that glorious being to a domestic state of servitude that didn't suit her at all?_

_He absent-mindedly shook hands with all the lords of the land, but his eyes kept roving to the woman who sat two seats away from him. _

_A few hours later, Uther gladly climbed into his bed. He knew it would be painful, but he had decided that he could no longer allow this continue…for her sake and for his peace of mind._

_The door handle clicked quietly, as he knew it would, and her tall figure elegantly moved towards the bed. She kicked off her dainty slippers and Uther felt the mattress lower slightly under her weight. She gave him a sidelong glance, removing her earrings slowly. _

_She began to undo the sash that held the outer layer of the dress together, but Uther's hand closed firmly over hers. She looked at him questioningly and moved her hand, thinking that he wanted to undo it himself. _

_But, Uther sat up on the bed beside her and gently retied the knot of the sash. _

"_Oh, are you tired?" Nimueh was puzzled with Uther's behaviour because he had never seemed so disinterested in her and knew that there had to be a reason behind it. "Is there something troubling you?" She faced him and put her hand on his arm. "Is it that Lord Cenred was a little cold? We can deal with it in the morning. Come rest now." She tried to pull him back onto the bed, but he got up and walked towards the window. _

_The window was open and the cold night air blew into his face and refreshed him as his resolve strengthened. _

"_Nimueh," he finally said. "We can no longer do…this."_

_Nimueh's eyebrows rose, but she kept quiet. _

_Uther took a deep breath and resumed, unable to keep the emotion from his voice. "These past months have been like a dream. You helped me in so many ways; I would never be King without you. You are the one person I trust and value above all others." Behind his back, Nimueh's face lit up with pride. _

"_You have given me so much, but I have reduced you to a…common woman. You are a priestess – the most powerful woman I have ever known. You should not be ordering servants and concerning yourself with such household tasks. I am sorry for what I have done to you. Not only have you counseled me and seen to petty duties around the castle, you have also allowed me to…" Uther's voice faded away and finally he gathered up the courage to face her. "I am not worthy of you in any way, least of all in this. You have indulged me, but I will not allow myself to stain your honor thus. Even if I was an equal to you and could make you my Queen, I would not be able to because you are more than just a lady. How can I grasp at your brilliance that was never mine to begin with?" _

_After a long pause in which he noticed her fists clenching the sheets and her face reddening, he said, "Thank you for permitting one so below you to touch you and for a moment, share in your magnificence." Uther blurted out this last part abruptly…he had wanted to say that from the very first night when he had kissed her in the rain. _

_He came around the side of the bed and knelt at her feet. He reached for her hand, which she drew away from him contemptuously as she arose. "What is this of permitting and thanking? I am no whore, Uther Pendragon! I am a Priestess of the Old Religion – I merely follow the call of nature." She towered above him and he cringed under her wrath. "I am glad that you have finally seen sense because I wondered when you would stop succumbing to the pleasures of flesh and become a man…a King." _

_Uther bowed his normally proud head and felt that his worst fears were indeed true – but also that in a small way he had passed the twisted test that she had set for him. However, he failed to catch the lone tear that had rolled down Nimueh's cheek. _

_She spoke again, her voice now cold and haughty. "I must return to my sisters. You have no need of my assistance any longer." She swept from the room, barefoot, but hesitated at the doorway, looking back at Uther. _

_He was still kneeling with his head bowed and she knew that once she had gone, he would truly be alone. As much as she hated him at this moment, she knew that Viviane wouldn't be very happy if their plans went wrong now. He was still a newly crowned King and in the face of challenges, he could use the counsel of someone he could trust…_

"_Gaius will stay with you, should you need to contact my people," Nimueh said indifferently. She walked away from the only man she had ever loved, with her head held high, but her steps faltering. _

_Uther saw something glinting on the rich carpet. He picked it up slowly and turned over the delicate earring in his hands. _

_He would keep this as a token of their friendship, but lock away the memories of their affair, which had destroyed and driven away that very friendship. _

* * *

"That night Nimueh left the castle in a hurry. She came to see me and bade me to stay with Uther. She seemed haggard - upset almost – as if she were a mere mortal, but she did not say anything on the matter and Uther, it appeared, did not have any insight on why she suddenly departed. Uther genuinely believed it would be the last he saw of her – he began to grow into his kingly role with Nimueh's absence. Less than a year later, however, we had word from Nimueh. She had left her home Isle and was coming to Camelot once more. She arrived in the morning and spoke to Uther – what they spoke of, I know not – but she came to see me that evening greatly distressed…"

* * *

_It had been a busy morning for King Uther. He had heard all the petitioners' complaints in rapid succession and had dismissed the courtiers as soon as possible. _

_Now when the doors were thrown open, he was standing alone by his throne. _

_A heavily cloaked lady walked towards him with a warm smile on her face, as if the last encounter between them had not taken place. _

_He sighed in relief at her pleasant entrance and gestured to the guards to close the doors. He strode towards her, meeting her halfway. _

_They stood silently for a moment for the months that passed had wrought change upon them both. _

_Whereas a permanent frown had appeared on Uther's face and the line of his jaw was more set than ever, Nimueh's face was in full bloom. Her cheeks bore the rosiness of youth and her whole face seemed to glow with happiness._

_Inwardly, he wanted to embrace his good friend, but instead he welcomed her more formally as a King would. He held out both his hands and said, "Lady Nimueh, it is a pleasure to see you again at court. We received your tidings three days past and I have asked the servants to prepare a special lunch for us. Let me take you to the dining hall now." _

_Her hands were still beneath her cloak and she did not outstretch them to meet his. Rather, she shrugged off the cloak on one side, revealing a bundle in the crook of her arm. _

_She smiled again and put her free hand forward. "Wait. I have some wonderful news to share with you…I have journeyed this far to meet you, but not alone."_

_She gently unraveled the top of the bundle as Uther's eyes widened in complete shock. He took a step back as he saw a tiny, pinkish face with wisps of blond hair emerge from the blankets. _

_In his heart, he had a sinking feeling but he waited for her confirmation. _

_Uther suddenly realized that the changes he had seen in her face were of a maternal kind. She adoringly gazed at the child, tickling the infant's nose and looked up at Uther with bright eyes. "This is our daughter, Mor-" _

"_NO!" shouted Uther. _

_He took several more steps back and Nimueh frowned in displeasure at his reaction. _

"_What do you mean 'no'? She is your child, Uther. She will be the most powerful heir this kingdom could have hoped for." Even as she said this in her most controlling manner, Nimueh knew she was merely trying to gain Uther's acceptance by seducing him with ambition and future power. This was not the son that the prophecies spoke of…this was not the son she had expected when she realized that she was carrying Uther's child. But prophecies had been wrong before…_

"_You will accept this child as your own!" Nimueh commanded. _

_Uther looked at the child with distaste. "No," he repeated firmly. _

_He was no longer swayed by her powers of persuasion. He was his own man now, but he wanted to make her understand his viewpoint because he couldn't bear her accusatory glare. _

"_Try to understand, Nimueh," he began. "I don't mean the child harm, but we both know that I cannot possibly accept this child without arousing a scandal, not to mention that Tristan would have my head on a platter for my indiscretion."_

_Nimueh's eyes narrowed at his words. She held the child closer to her. "No, _you _try to understand. This child is of my noble blood. She carries the same ancient power in her veins. And if you cast her aside_..._one day you will repent." _

_Uther looked at Nimueh stubbornly, his arms folded and she was surprised at his behaviour. She had never seen this side of him before, though she had heard many a time, from both servants and sisters alike, that Uther Pendragon could be as unreasonable and unchanging as she. Viviane had warned her against going back, but _she _had asserted that Uther would welcome the baby with open arms. _

_Seeing her downcast expression, Uther tried to soften his harsh words. "When I heard that you were returning, it was my hope that you would stay at court for good. However, I can see that this matter has troubled you greatly. If you wish, you are free to leave and raise the child as you see fit. But, I am firm in my stance, Nimueh, though I wish it weren't so... I will have nothing to do with this child."_

_Nimueh had never faced such conflicting emotions. She sensed for the first time in her life that she was fighting a losing battle. And instead of this angering her further, the fact that his will could overpower hers was filling her with newfound desire for his love. But at the same time, she was deeply saddened at his rejection of her newborn, who in this short time had become a deep part of her. _

_She looked at Uther's hard face one last time, but he did not yield. She gathered the last shreds of dignity she had left and stalked out of the Great Hall… _

… _Nimueh sat alone in her bedchamber, rocking the bundle in her arms to sleep as she cooed a lullaby. She could see the sun rapidly setting through her window and when her baby had fallen asleep, she placed her precious daughter on the bed that the servants had carefully prepared for her. _

_She stayed by her daughter's side, stroking her few strands of hair, which were fairer than her father's. _

_Nimueh was in a dilemma that she could have never foreseen. Was she to take her kin and leave Uther? Was there even an alternative? _

_The one thing Nimueh knew for certain was that the minute she had walked out of Uther's life, those months ago, she had regretted it with every ounce of her being. She didn't think that she would be able to take his loss the second time. And that left only one choice open to her..._

… _She saw Gaius taking Morgause in his arms, promising to deliver her to the priestesses. She hated herself for making this decision and hated _him _for putting her in this position. Nimueh hoped with all her might that she had made the right choice. As Gaius walked away, the tears that rolled down her cheeks told her that her punishment for this choice had already begun. _

_But, for Uther, she readily would drink even this poison…_

… _A few days later, she didn't have to put up a pretense because the heartbreak that she felt was genuine. _

_She was weeping uncontrollably as she lied to Uther. "The child is dead," she sobbed. "She passed away of an illness, I know not what…"_

_Uther looked at her pityingly, but felt relief wash over him. He patted her arm briefly and said, "Perhaps it is for the best."_

_Nimueh, through her tears, saw that Uther was not the least bit saddened by her news and again the incongruent thoughts flared up in her head. She wanted to hurt him in unimaginable ways, but she wanted to hold onto him desperately. _

* * *

"She came holding a month old baby girl in her arms. She told me that the child was hers and…Uther's." Gaius whispered the late King's name, hoping that Arthur didn't fully comprehend what he was saying.

Arthur looked like he wanted to rip his hair out. He could not understand how he didn't know _any _of this. Why hadn't anybody told him? Did he even truly know his father _at all_?

Even Gwen didn't appear to be as shocked as he was, but Gaius continued, which illuminated that issue as well.

"Her name was Morgause. She is your half-sister and so has claim to the throne. After your father's untimely death, she used his dead body as a puppet to declare herself Queen and you dead. Gwen…I…and the entire kingdom saw _Uther _say those words and though upon seeing you alive, most will accept you wholeheartedly as King…there are those who will feel that _she _has been wronged by your father and will support her reign."

Arthur was doubting whether he even wanted to fight for the kingdom that his father had forged in a web of lies.

Unexpectedly, Arthur got up and dropped Gwen's hand. "I don't want to hear anymore of this, Gaius. I am _fed _up with deceit!"

Gaius panicked slightly because he _needed _Arthur to hear the rest. Very tactfully, he played the one card that he knew Arthur could not resist.

Pretending he hadn't heard what Arthur said, he spoke loudly. "After I had given Morgause to the Old Religion, all was well for many years in Camelot. Nimueh stayed at Uther's side, but this time as an equal. Though she offered him her advice, more and more Uther did what he felt was best. Nimueh and Uther renewed their friendship leaving behind the details of their dark past. Eventually, we all forgot that pact with Tristan that we had formed. But, he had not forgotten. Six years to the day that Uther signed the treaty, Tristan sent a messenger announcing that he and his sister, Ygraine, would be journeying to Camelot to make good on that old promise."

Arthur's back stiffened and Gaius knew that he had his attention. Though Arthur did not sit back down, he made no indication of leaving either.

* * *

_The first time he saw her he nearly forgot to breathe. He had never expected her to be so beautiful – the sunlight filtering through the Great Hall's stained glass windows fell on her golden locks. Her brother led her towards him and placed her hand in his. She bowed her head and looked up at him shyly with keen blue eyes, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks. _

"_May I present to you my sister - your future bride," Tristan Dubois said. _

_His eyes never left her as he replied, "I am honoured to accept your sister as my bride. I am certain that this alliance between the Pendragon and Dubois families will be long and prosperous." _

_The Great Hall filled with tumultuous applause and his eyes swept over the crowd. Every face in the hall was alight with happiness except for one. _

_His oldest friend, Nimueh, stood in the only dark corner of the hall. Her normally young and breathtaking face seemed suddenly old and gaunt as if she had lived many generations in these few moments. _

_He decided he would talk to her about her apparent displeasure later on because right now, Ygraine seemed to fill his entire being like a soft melody. _

* * *

"Uther and Ygraine fell in love very quickly. The King was more soft-hearted and gentle around her than I had ever seen him before. She was truly the apple of his eye and though she was initially scared of his imposing nature, she grew to adore him."

"Did you know my mother well?" Arthur asked as he sat down and leaned forward eagerly.

"I knew her quite well. She was always very thoughtful and kind. She spent her afternoons visiting courtiers and enquiring about their needs. Ygraine wanted to be a mother from the moment I met her. She was happiest when she was playing with the children of the court. She was so generous that she often commissioned the woodcarver to make new toys for all her little friends." Gaius smiled, feeling more at peace just reminiscing about his former Queen. "Her presence at court was greatly welcomed for though she spoke not a word, just her calming aura would make Uther more merciful in his judgments."

Gwen rubbed Arthur's back comfortingly and seeing his head bowed, she knew that tears must be glistening in his eyes.

"Though you never met her, you are more like her than your father," Gaius said gently. He gave Arthur a moment to think on his mother's memory.

However, Gaius needed to finish the story he started. Reluctantly, he began to speak again. "It was evident to all who saw your parents that they were deeply in love. About six months after their marriage, they were able to escape duties of the kingdom to attend a wedding for a lesser king – King Gibraltar. They were away for almost a month and during that time, Uther left his new general, a brave man named Gorlois, in command of the army while his trusted friend, Nimueh, was left responsible for state affairs."

* * *

_He heard her pretty laughter as he landed squarely on his bottom. He had been trying to impress her with his horse riding tricks, but it had all gone horribly wrong. She gracefully dismounted from her horse and came towards him. _

_He was covered in mud. "Bet you wish you hadn't agreed to marry me now."_

"_One thing is certain: you are no King of Horses." Ygraine blushed as she held out her hand to him. "Muddy or not, you're the only husband I want." _

_He took her hand and they both laughed heartily. Though they were being escorted by Uther's personal bodyguards, it felt as though they were lost in their own world. Uther mounted the horse again in his soiled garments to journey on to the wedding. _

_They had barely made it a few paces out of Camelot so he did not want to turn back just for a change of fresh clothes. He would wait till they got to the next village. _

_Nimueh stood alone on the ramparts of the castle. She saw the newlyweds as they rode away from Camelot. Jealously and rage was coursing through her veins. She had been feeling this poisonous venom in her soul for the past six months and it had not lessened one bit. Their departure was a relief in a way…at least she would not have to be constantly subjected to their pathetic displays of affection. _

_Everything had gone so terribly wrong…so terribly not according to plan. _

_She had stayed on in Camelot after sending her daughter away, hoping that in time Uther's passion for her would reignite. _

_Maybe he was distracted by Ygraine's young charms, but he needed to see sense again. _

_How could the love that they had shared in his early time as King be completely destroyed? Even now, he insisted on her being at court, he still occasionally looked to her for advice and he had left _her _in charge of his kingdom. What more evidence did she need? It all meant that he valued her implicitly, but it had been too long since he had outwardly worshipped her. _

_Perhaps, he needed a little reminder of what he stood to lose…_

… _Nimueh chose her gown for the evening meal with great care. As her maidservant fastened the glittering blue sash, she surveyed her reflection in the mirror. She knew she looked more beautiful and enchanting this night than she had in a long time. _

_The blue silk dress brought out the depths of the sea in her eyes. The entire front of the gown was covered by elaborate gold embroidery, which she had added by magic. The sleeves of the dress just fell off her shoulders, giving a teasing glimpse of flawless marble skin. _

_She walked into the large, state dining hall. It was already filled. Noblemen and their wives sat on one side of the room while the knights were seated on the other. _

_Every eye in the room followed her as she lifted the hem of her dress, walking to the front of the room._

_Nimueh approached the centre of the table, standing in front of what was normally Uther's seat. The nobles looked at her surprised, for her usual place had been left unoccupied, but none dared to question her. _

_The room was oddly quiet and she could almost read their thoughts. Men were so easy to excite and as for the wives, they were enviously ogling at her dress. _

_Some of the esteemed noblemen were sharing the high table with her and they all bowed their heads respectfully as she assumed the centre seat. _

_One by one, knights and courtiers started to fall over themselves to come pay their respects to her. She condescendingly looked upon each man to see if he was worthy of being an unwilling participant in her scheme to regain Uther's love. _

_She knew that jealousy and possessiveness were the most primal emotions in a man and she was going to use it to her advantage. _

_The problem was that she was not going to settle for just anyone. She had high standards, even in this matter._

_Nimueh grew bored quickly, as one after another they kept failing to impress her. One was too short, the next too tall, one too lanky, the other too chubby, one too pleasant, the next too ill-tempered. She waved each one on after a brief greeting._

_Is there no one here that is half as good as Uther? She asked herself with a hint of desperation. _

_That was when her eyes fell on a man who was encircled by knights. Knights that she recognized as ones that had come to address her early on. But, he himself she had never seen before and she was surprised that he had not come to her. She knew he had to be a commander for they all crowded around him as though he were a hero. He still wore his armour even though there was no battle to be fought in the dining hall. His curly black locks would have made him look very young were it not for his mature demeanor. _

_He looked to be several years older than Uther and unlike Uther's clean-shaven face, his slight beard hid his strong jaw and made his expression somewhat difficult to read. But, his green eyes gave his mood away. He was smiling as a younger knight was chatting to him animatedly. Leaning back on his chair, he downed the last of his tankard of mead and turned to another knight, who addressed him with obvious admiration. His hand stroked the side of his tanned face as he responded intently to the knight's enquiries. _

_Nimueh had seen enough to make up her mind. She beckoned to the knight who stood on guard behind her. "Who is that?" she asked quietly, pointing towards her new find._

_The knight looked surprised at her ignorance. "My lady, that is Lord Gorlois. He just arrived this afternoon upon the King's order that he take charge of the army and protect Camelot in King Uther's absence. He has been away been fighting for the past many years on our western borders and he has proved himself to be a most fearless and skilled warrior." The knight's eyes were full of respect as he spoke._

_Nimueh had heard of this man on numerous occasions, but she had imagined him to be…more brutish somehow. She rose and said commandingly, "Take me to him." _

_The knight readily obliged and as she took his arm, the people at the high table bowed at her again. She nodded for them to continue with their meal as she descended towards the right side of the hall. _

_The knights around Gorlois fell silent as she approached them. They stood in awe. _

_She let go of her escort's arm. As she directed her gaze to Gorlois, the knight to his immediate right jumped to his feet, but her target of interest rose rather unwillingly._

_He inclined his head. "My lady. Uther has spoken very highly of you. I, like you, am a servant of his highness." _

_Nimueh raised her head haughtily. He was very tall, much taller than Uther but unlike Uther, he looked down at her as if she were just another mortal woman. _

"_I am not a servant of Uther," she proudly declared. "I am a servant of the Old Religion, one of the high priestesses. You would not know anything of these matters." _

_She was sure that she caught a look of admiration in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a common courteous expression. _

_He folded his hands casually in front of his body and said, "I apologize if I have offended you. I only meant to say that I am yours to command." _

_She nodded in approval. Her tone changed and became light and conversational. "Uther has left us _both _in charge. You shall sit at the high table from now on…by my side." She emphasized the last three words as she raised an eyebrow suggestively. _

_Gorlois was confused by her look, but he had no objection to her request. "Of course. I have never been at court before, so I am ignorant in the practices of this palace. You must forgive me and be patient as I learn, my lady."_

_She nodded again, pleased at his gentle, diplomatic words and she took a step back. "I will see you tomorrow then." _

"_And the day after that." His normally grave, noble countenance broke into a genuine smile and his green eyes twinkled in silent laughter. He remained standing as she glided away. _

_Nimueh felt his eyes on her back as she exited the hall and smiled to herself. She knew it was only a matter of time before he succumbed fully to her. _

_Camelot's commander- in- chief was assuredly the most handsome man she had seen in this palace. But to her, he was just another man who was not Uther Pendragon…_

… _Uther was a little concerned, for the moment he had arrived back from King Gibraltar's wedding, the two people he had left in charge had requested a private audience with him. He had made sure Ygraine was settled comfortably in their chambers before he made his way to the Council Chambers. _

_He stopped at the entrance - to his utmost astonishment, Nimueh's one hand was wrapped around Gorlois' elbow. They noticed him at the doorway and Gorlois grinned foolishly. _

_Uther quickly strode into the room and waved his hand at the guards, asking them to leave the room. He stopped a few paces away from the couple and his eyebrows creased in curiosity. _

"_I am glad to see you both but what is it that is of such urgency that it cannot wait until I am rested?" Uther said tiredly. His eyes kept wandering to Nimueh's and Gorlois' intertwined arms and subconsciously noted her proximity to him. _

_Gorlois cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked down at Nimueh. She, however, looked at Uther closely as she stroked Gorlois' upper arm in feigned fondness. _

_Gorlois took courage from her touch and swallowed his nervousness. "My King, we have come to ask for your permission to marry. We are deeply in love and it may seem as though it happened very suddenly, but I feel as though the fates have brought us together. I know that my dearest is very precious to you…to your kingdom, but I cannot bear to be parted from her and I hope that you will give us your blessings."_

_Uther blinked and looked as if someone had hit him over the head with a club. _

_Nimueh felt as though she was finally about to celebrate her triumph. She was waiting for Uther to rip Gorlois apart and take her in his arms and kiss her like there was no tomorrow. _

_Still, Uther did not speak and the pause lengthened. _

_Gorlois looked worried as his King continued to stare at them blankly. "My lord…Uther…" he began hesitantly. "I swear that I have the most honorable of intentions. Will you not say something to ease our anxiety? We cannot enter this bond happily without your approval." _

_Nimueh's eyes were glowing with a wild anticipation. _

_The King appeared dazed for a few more moments but finally, he spoke. "My friends…you have surprised me immensely. I was not expecting to see my oldest friend and my commander-in-chief to be standing before me thus." A wide smile appeared on his face as he outstretched his hands to them both. "Nothing will give me more pleasure than to see you both happily married. This is truly wonderful news. I will see to the wedding myself. Nimueh, be glad because I shall make certain that it be conducted with pomp and splendor as is befitting a priestess of your caliber. You do not know how much peace your union has brought me." _

_Uther hugged Gorlois with one arm, still beaming, and took Nimueh's hand in his other. _

_She heard Gorlois laughing in relief. "Thank you, Uther. Do not worry about Nimueh. I will care for her as you do for Ygraine." _

_Uther slapped Gorlois' arm jokingly and let go of Nimueh's hand. "My dearest friend, for your wedding gift, you shall have my estate of Cornwall. There is an unoccupied palace there and I shall have it prepared for you. Ygraine herself will see to Nimueh's wedding dress!" Uther said generously with great jubilation as Nimueh felt herself fading from the scene. _

_She heard Gorlois' next words as though she were a thousand miles away. Her heart felt as if it had stopped beating and she felt numb, paralyzed. _

_There was nothing for her now…he did not care…_

… _A large, warm hand slipped a ring on her finger as the enormous crowd cheered…_

… _She felt the rain falling lightly as a huge, gloomy castle loomed before her. As he lifted her off the horse, she heard Gorlois say, "That's our new home now. Isn't it magnificent?"…_

… _She felt his lips graze her neck and for the first time felt a twinge of fear somewhere within the depths of her mind. She didn't want this! _

_He comfortingly spoke in her ear. "Are you scared? Don't be…" He made her look into his eyes as he said with every ounce of his emotion, "I promise I will never hurt you." _

_He lowered his head once more to her bosom and her hands almost involuntarily tangled themselves in his dark, thick hair…_

… _Time seemed to pass, though she was still watching everything happen as if she was not in her body…_

… _Some friends of Gorlois arrived as guests to their home, and she played the hostess naturally, giving them dazzling smiles as she entertained them with her musical voice. _

_After her last song, she felt Gorlois' arms slip around her waist. He bent his head to her ear and whispered, his hands going dangerously lower. "You look so beautiful tonight." _

_Rather mischievously, he bit her ear playfully and walked away, with a spring in his step…_

… _She knew she should feel pain and then immense joy, but she felt nothing. Nothing at all. The midwife handed a baby girl to her and Nimueh tried to will herself to look upon her baby with love. But…nothing came. _

_She heard Gorlois burst into the room. He held her tightly and his tears told her that he had enough joy for the both of them as he took his newly born daughter in his arms. _

_Though outwardly she was projecting the appearance of a happy mother, inside she felt empty. She neither wanted to leave them, nor to stay. She wanted to love them, but she didn't care enough to try. She was indifferent to everything..._

… _Two years passed like two minutes. With one hand, she was rocking the cradle and with the other she was spinning wool. _

_Back and forth. Back and forth. She watched Morgana's sleeping head come closer and then move away. _

_Morgana was always restless in her sleep, she wriggled uncomfortably and Nimueh suspected that her night terrors were a sign of her future Seeing ability. She would be a Seer like her forbearers before her. _

_Back and forth, Morgana's head went. Back and forth. _

_She watched the movement of the cradle as if in a trance. When she forced her gaze away from the cradle, the bright walls of Morgana's nursery came into sharp relief. _

_What had happened to her? Who was she? _

_Suddenly she felt a restlessness awaken in her heart as it began to flutter rapidly. She had no business to be here. She had been in a dreamlike state ever since Uther had rejected her…but slowly, that state was ebbing away. She was waking up, returning to reality. _

_Her daughter and her husband were not a part of this reality. They were a part of that docile and domestic dream, the tune of which she had been dancing to for the last two years. She dropped the wool, let go of the cradle and ran to the door._

_She needed to go home, her true home. She had lost her way and needed guidance. Before she reached the door, her husband walked in. She didn't even notice the new scars on his face from the latest battle from which he must have just returned._

_She forced herself to put on a mask of gaiety. He lifted her up into the air and twirled her around. "My darling," he said joyously. "I have missed you so. I have told Uther that I am done fighting for a little while. I don't want to leave you and Morgana!" _

_He kissed her hard for a second before he tiptoed to Morgana's cradle to gaze affectionately at his beloved daughter. "She has grown so much! Soon, I will be chasing the boys away from her. She is every bit as beautiful as you are," he said softly. _

_Nimueh could not breathe in that room. She felt as though she was being slowly suffocated. She made herself speak. "Gorlois, I must visit my home. I am missing my sisters." It was the truth that she was speaking, but she did not want to tell him that she had no intention of ever returning. _

_He looked at her with concern in his eyes. "Have you had any bad news? Must you go right away?" _

"_I must leave immediately. I just…I have a bad feeling…" Now, she was lying but she felt no remorse. _

_Gorlois nodded, trying to understand her urgency. "I will make preparations for you to leave if you must…" He came closer to her and held her to him. His voice was muffled by her hair, "Wish you could have stayed the night." He gave a small chuckle and sighed wistfully. _

_Nimueh wondered what was wrong with her. Though she knew she should be feeling guilty, she only wanted to run away from his kindness and love. _

_The minute he let go of her, she turned and left the room abruptly. _

_Gorlois was left standing in Morgana's nursery, asking himself why his wife suddenly felt like a stranger. He scolded himself for doubting her since he was the one who had kept her away from her family for this long. Of course, it was only worry that was plaguing her and once she returned to Cornwall, things would go back to normal. _

* * *

"Gorlois?" Gwen exclaimed. "That's Morgana's father…"

"I've met Lord Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall," said Arthur solemnly. "He used to bring Morgana to Camelot to visit us…he taught us how to spar with each other."

"Yes, I remember that. Gorlois was the most honorable man I have ever met. He was invaluable to your father and when Gorlois died, leaving Morgana alone, Uther felt extremely guilty and took her in as his own," Gaius said.

Arthur nodded. "I know my father loved her."

"It is a testament to Uther's love for Gorlois that he loved Morgana, in spite of the hatred he came to feel for her mother. Her mother - _Nimueh_…she was married to Gorlois."

Gwen gasped, understanding finally the connection between Morgause and Morgana.

"How did that happen?" Arthur was too invested in Gaius' story to leave, however horrific the ending might turn out to be.

Arthur was no fool – he knew how this story was going to end: with his mother dying and the beginning of the Great Purge, but he had no idea how the circumstances had led to that tragedy.

"Nimueh and Gorlois were married soon after King Gibraltar's wedding. They seemed happy in Cornwall and Morgana was born shortly after their marriage. And for two years, I thought it was the end of Uther and Nimueh's relationship, which so far had been complicated and muddled to say the least. I thought our problems were over when Nimueh left Camelot. How very wrong I was…"

Gaius took a deep breath, wondering how he alone had survived to first-hand tell this tale. "It had been nearly three years since Uther and Ygraine's wedding, but there was no sign of an heir. She had become more and more distressed about this. Both were desperate for a child and Uther sought my counsel."

* * *

_It was late at night and Gaius was poring over his books when Uther walked into the physician's quarters. Uther looked tormented and his eyes wandered around the room before settling on Gaius' hunched figure. _

"_Sire," Gaius exclaimed as he rose._

_Uther made a signal for him to sit back down and he sat opposite Gaius on a rickety stool._

"_I need you to bring Nimueh from Cornwall," Uther said suddenly._

_Gaius had not seen this request coming. "May I enquire as to the reason?" he asked with foreboding. He had thought the separation between Uther and Nimueh was for the best. _

"_Ygraine and I…you know that for a long time we have been trying for an heir. I don't know why…she is unable to conceive and Nimueh once told me that she has the power to produce life…you must bring her and beseech her on my behalf to do this for me…for Ygraine." _

_Gaius shook his head. "Sire, you know not what you are asking for. I am familiar with the Old Religion. It is not as simple as it sounds. I would advise you not to do this."_

_Uther banged his fist on the table and Gaius jumped. "Gaius, you have stayed here long enough and so, you are no longer a member of the Old Religion. You are a servant of my court and I command you on the pain of death to bring Nimueh to me." _

_Gaius harbored no false illusions of ever returning to the Isle of the Blessed…he had grown far too comfortable in the role of court physician. _

_As Gaius felt a cold chill crawl up his spine, he realized that the time for reasoning had long passed – the King's mind seemed set on the matter. Gaius also knew that he should not take Uther's harsh words to heart for they truly had become good friends. And Gaius would help his friend…_

… _Gaius approached the Isle of the Blessed, again thinking of how strange it was that Nimueh had left Cornwall. When he had arrived at Cornwall last week, Gorlois had informed him that she had left in a hurry to visit her sisters. _

_He sat in the magical boat, which automatically steered him towards the sacred isle. It had been a while since Gaius had come to his former home and he looked with pleasure at the beautiful, lush forest, the temples and the aromatic flowers. Many of the inhabitants were walking around peacefully, picking herbs and precious flowers. They waved to Gaius as he got out of the boat and headed towards the centre of the island where the Great Lady dwelled. _

_He felt her power with every step he took and once he reached the entrance, he announced himself. "It is I, Gaius, may I come in, dear lad__y Viviane?" _

_The door opened before him and he stepped into the cool, dark enclosure. He walked down the long hallway, which was lit by small hovering candles and finally opened the door to the main altar. _

_Gaius walked into a room, which to him, had always been a mystery. There was only a stone tablet in the centre of the circular room and it held inscriptions that Gaius did not know how to read. Around the tablet, the two sisters Viviane and Nimueh, were kneeling with their heads bowed in prayer. _

_Nimueh looked up when she heard Gaius come in, but Viviane finished her prayer before speaking._

"_Gaius," she said in her otherworldly voice. _

_They both got up and led him into the next room. "What is it that you have come for, Gaius?" Viviane asked with never-ending patience. _

_Gaius noticed a small, fair-haired girl drawing symbols of the ancient language on the sandy floor. Upon seeing Viviane, the girl ran to her arms and Gaius noted Nimueh's down-turned face at the girl's behaviour._

"_Why are you here?" Gaius asked Nimueh. "You had not left Cornwall for so long."_

"_I wished to see my daughter," Nimueh said as she took the young girl's hand and dragged her away from Viviane. She stroked Morgause's hair, trying to convey to Gaius her love for her daughter. The eight-year-old girl looked pleased at the attention she was receiving from her real mother. _

_Viviane smiled at Nimueh's affectionate gesture towards Morgause and remained quiet, waiting for Gaius to speak again._

"_Uther requests you, Nimueh," said Gaius._

_Nimueh's face brightened almost immediately against her will. But, when she spoke it was in a fairly composed manner. "I came here because I had lost myself." But, her voice became more high-pitched as she said, "But now, sister, look! This is my calling. I will prepare to leave immediately."_

_Viviane, not for the first time, had to restrain her younger sister from her impulsiveness. "Wait! First hear what the request is before you jump to fulfill it." _

_Gaius said, "I tried to warn Uther against it, but he feels he has no choice. Ygraine has not given him an heir." _

_Nimueh laughed derisively but Viviane silenced her with a sharp look. _

"_He wants Nimueh to use magic to help her conceive," finished Gaius. _

_Viviane closed her eyes and asked Nimueh. "Do you still wish to go now? This could be what the prophecy spoke of, but will your heart allow you to do this?"_

_Gaius looked confused but stood respectfully silent. _

_Nimueh released Morgause and addressed Gaius. "I will ride with you now. I don't care about the prophecy any longer." She turned to Viviane. "And I don't care what you think. There has always only ever been one choice for me." _

_Viviane wanted to stop her sister, for her intuition was telling her that no good would come of this…prophecy or no prophecy. She felt as though she had caused all this pain for her sister by sending her to Uther in the first place. "Nimueh, ask yourself again. The Questing Beast has been sighted. Perhaps, we have misinterpreted all the signs so far. I feel that some great upheaval is to come before the prophecy is fulfilled." _

_Nimueh kissed her sister's cheek and the top of Morgause's head. "I will not leave you this time, child. I will be back…but to him, I must go now." … _

… _Uther Pendragon welcomed her to his court, but with no festivities. It seemed as though the castle was in mourning even though nothing untoward had happened. _

_Nimueh looked upon the man she hated…but her hate was overpowered by the intense love she felt for him. She still could not resist his pull. She knew now that her love for him had turned into a obsession, a dangerous obsession…but she did not care. The man was nearly ten years older than when she had seen him, but he looked as though he had aged twenty years. _

_A few grey streaks were appearing in his hair and his face was filled with lines of stress and worry. A prominent scar, the length of his forehead, had appeared which gave him even more of an imposing look. _

"_Has Gaius told you what I wish?" he asked, coming straight to the point. He looked at her pleadingly, his eyes full of anguish. "This kingdom needs an heir and my wife wants a child more than anything. I fear that if she does not bear a child soon, she will be devastated. Her happiness means everything to me and she is ready to do anything…we are both ready to do anything!"_

_Nimueh took a strange pleasure in his agony. But at the same time, she could not bear it. "I will do as you ask. But be warned, there will be a price to pay." And at that moment, Nimueh knew what the price would be. _

_It would be heavy indeed._

"_Whatever the price, I will gladly pay it," Uther Pendragon said, sealing his fate…_

… _Nimueh held the goblet out to Ygraine, who was sitting on the bed timidly. Her pale face was trusting as she took the goblet from the sorceress._

"_That's it? I just have to drink it?" she asked nervously. _

_Nimueh looked down at the young woman with pity. She should hate her; she had come as a rival for Uther's affections…but she realized now that it wasn't Ygraine who was at fault, all along. It was Uther who had denied her, it was Uther who had taken her heart, ripped it in pieces and flung it back into her face. This woman bore no blame, she had somehow been thrown into this storm and Nimueh knew she would not survive it. _

"_You must drink every drop," said Nimueh._

_Ygraine dutifully raised the goblet to her lips and began to drink. _

_As she drank, Nimueh questioned herself again. She was standing here watching this woman drink a potion - no a poison - and Nimueh was not only watching, but encouraging her to drink it. How had she become a cold-blooded murderer? Part of her knew that the law of magic never worked the same way twice, so it was hard to tell who would have to give up their life in order for the child to be born, but her instinct told her that it would be the mother. _

_Why was she allowing this to happen? It was because she did not care whether Ygraine lived or died but she _wanted _Uther to feel the immense pain at losing one he loved, like she had felt for him. And in that pain, perhaps he would turn to her for comfort. She would hold the power then and she would reject him and deny him in every way possible. _

_Ygraine placed the goblet on the table beside her when she finished and wiped her lips. She took Nimueh's cold hands in hers and said earnestly, "I will never forget what you have done for me."_

_There was a small knock on the door and Uther entered. He was pleasantly surprised to see the two women, one he had once worshipped as a goddess and the one he now worshipped as a wife, holding hands. His eyes fell on the empty goblet and he let out a deep breath. _

_Ygraine spoke again to Nimueh in her gentle voice. "We have never gotten the opportunity to be friends. Now perhaps we will get the chance. Uther, if possible, I want Nimueh to stay with me until the child is born."_

_Uther glanced at Nimueh quickly and gave her a silent commanding look. "Of course she will stay," he said softly to his wife. _

_Nimueh averted her eyes when he looked at her, feeling the familiar rush of blood pounding in her head and the burning of her cheeks. _

_Why was she allowing him to tell her what to do? Who was she trying to fool? As Uther approached the bed and sat down beside Ygraine, rubbing her back, Nimueh knew that once Ygraine died, Uther in his misery would never turn to her again. And just as surely, even if he did, she would not be able to turn him away. _

_Nimueh felt hot tears stinging her eyelids and quickly took leave from the royal couple, loathing this man for the hold he had on her life…_

… _A few weeks after, Ygraine missed her monthly bleeding. Gaius confirmed, with a magical spell, that she was indeed pregnant. _

_The night was young and Nimueh stood at her balcony window, overlooking the courtyard. _

_Uther and Ygraine had been happier than she had ever seen them and their smiles went like daggers through her heart. She was surprised she still even had a heart left. _

_Lost in her thoughts, she did not hear her door open quietly. But she nearly jumped when she felt strong arms encircle her waist from behind. Her heart thudded rapidly and she told herself that it must be a dream…Uther would never do this. But she dared to hope for a second and said questioningly, "My lord?" _

"_You've never called me that before. But I like it, my lady," said a voice that she thought she would never have to hear again. Gorlois pulled her close against his chest and buried his head in her neck. She cringed in disgust, wanting to rip his arms off her, but shock rooted her to the spot._

"_What are you doing here?" she asked rather violently. Her hands went to his arms, trying to pry herself free, but he mistook it for an affectionate grip._

"_Uther said you would stay till Ygraine bore an heir and he invited us to join you in Camelot. My love…I have a surprise for you."_

_He turned her around, still holding onto her and made her face the spot where a toddler was clutching the drapes. _

"_Morgana darling, walk towards your mother," he said in a singsong voice. _

_The little girl was wearing a green dress and had short black hair. She started to gurgle when she heard her father's voice and seeing the figures ahead of her, she began to take small, stumbling steps towards her parents. _

_Nimueh knew she should be overjoyed at her baby's progress, yet she wanted to scream in frustration and escape from the room. Finally, she got enough strength to free herself from Gorlois' embrace and she said coldly, "That is wonderful. I must go and make sure Ygraine is comfortable. Ask the servants to bring you food if you are tired from the journey, and I will send a maidservant to care for Morgana." _

_Gorlois scooped up his daughter from the floor and looked at Nimueh's retreating back with complete bewilderment._

* * *

Gaius chose his words carefully. "Uther and Ygraine were willing to do anything for a child and so Uther specifically requested Nimueh to be brought to court to perform magic. After I tracked down Nimueh, she agreed to help and gave your mother a special potion that would create life. Within weeks, Ygraine was pregnant with you." Upon seeing Arthur's thunderstruck face, he added, "Your father did not lie when he spoke to you after you returned from your encounter with Morgause. He did not know that this would take your mother's life, but yes, it is true that magic was used. And it was used with your mother's knowledge. Ygraine was in full consent…"

Arthur had always placed honesty and truth above all virtues. He realized that his father had failed him in an unimaginable way. After his meeting with Morgause, his relationship with his father had been strengthened…but it had all been a lie. His father _had _used magic. So neither Morgause, nor Uther, had told him the complete truth.

Gaius said rather defensively, "But magic is not to blame. And that's where Uther, and to some extent I, went wrong. The law of magic states that to create a life, a life must be taken…_how_ were any of us to know that it would be the life of Ygraine?"

* * *

"_It's a boy!" cried the midwife with glee, handing the baby to Gaius who quickly monitored the baby's breathing and began to clean the infant. Despite the late hour, the room was lit brightly. _

_Ygraine was sweaty and flushed, but she looked extremely pleased. Uther was holding her hand, eagerly awaiting for Gaius to hand the baby to him. _

_Gaius happily obliged and said, "He is in perfect health, sire." Gaius was quite relieved as well because no one close to the King had been feeling ill or was in any danger of death. Which meant perhaps the Old Religion had taken pity on this couple and had created life without a price. Perchance, it was because this red, wailing thing was the special heir that the prophecy had spoken of. _

_Uther held the baby close to Ygraine as she kissed the top of the boy's head, where a few downy, fine hairs were visible. _

_Gaius smiled benignly on the family, bowed and left…_

_But not three hours later, Gaius was once again sent for to the Queen's bedside. _

_Uther looked sick with worry as he paced the room. Ygraine lay on the bed, looking paler than ever before. Her face was clammy and every breath seemed to be painful for her. _

_Gaius knew even without examining her that she was going to die. She had been in perfect condition after the baby had been delivered, so there was only one explanation for this. _

"_What is wrong with her, Gaius? Cure her…use magic, use anything. Do it now!" Uther said manically. _

_A coughing fit overtook Ygraine and Uther rushed to her side. _

_Gaius looked at Ygraine's fading form and felt anger rising in his stomach. "I warned you, Uther Pendragon. This is the price you are going to pay. This can only be the work of magic. She was healthy after she had the baby, and there is no physical way she could have contracted this disease." Uther turned to look at Gaius and his face was glistening with tears. Gaius suddenly felt sympathetic when he tried to imagine that if this was how bad he was feeling for his Queen, how bad Uther must be feeling for his wife. "I am sorry, Uther. There is nothing I can do for her now," Gaius said gently. _

"_Leave me, Gaius." Uther's tortured voice was barely audible. _

_He was kneeling at her bedside, his face covered in tears, watching her life drain away. Her hand reached towards his face, trying to wipe away his tears. _

_Her feeble voice gave him even more pain. "I would gladly face my end for his beginning." _

_He could not speak, but he shook his head in anguish. _

_Her head fell back on the pillow. Her voice was barely a whisper now. "Grieve not, my lord. For you will always have something of mine with you. Grieve for me instead for I have nothing of yours to take with me."_

"_YGRAINE!" he yelled in agony. _

_She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his pained face._

"_Name him Arthur…for me," she struggled to say. During her pregnancy, she had been thinking of various names for her unborn child and had decided that if it was a boy, she would name him after his father. But then had concluded that it would be far too confusing to have two Uthers and so had settled on a derivative she had created of her husband's name – Arthur. _

_It dawned on her that she would never be able to call to her son by the name she had bestowed on him so lovingly…_

… _Uther threw the doors open to the Council Chamber. It was completely dark though the first rays of dawn were just beginning to appear beyond the horizon. He began to pace mindlessly. _

_Nimueh, his oldest friend, stood in the corner of the Council Chamber with her head bowed. "My king, I am gravely sorry for your loss."_

_He growled at her. "It's all your fault. She's gone – dead because of you! Get out of my sight!"_

_She had been waiting for him and was not surprised at his rage. "It's alright, Uther. Remember, this is what you wanted…"_

"_How was I to know that she would die? Only you could have known that! You DID know that." He threw a chair to the side and stepped towards her menacingly. _

_She held her ground and said, "I had no way of knowing for sure. But you knew there would be a price…you have a son now, an heir. Mourn your wife's death by all means, but do not be in any illusion that anyone else is to blame for this…but you." _

_He punched the wall next to her and she heard the bones crunch as they made contact with the stone. _

_She rushed to his aid immediately, but he pushed her away roughly. She had expected his sadness at Ygraine's death…but she had not foreseen this complete madness. _

"_I worshipped the ground you walked on. But today I see you for what you truly are. You are an evil! You practice dark arts! You've taken away my very soul." Uther enunciated every word with spiteful venom. _

_Nimueh looked at him. In the months where Ygraine had been pregnant, it had almost felt like old times. She had attended Uther's court regularly and he consulted her on all matters. They had laughed and talked together as though nothing had changed. She had completely neglected everything else…including her husband and daughter, but it had not mattered because Uther was once more growing close to her. But now… her hatred and anger returned in full force. _

_She could not fathom why she had wasted nearly a decade of her life in trying to please this man…this monster. "You would not be who you are if it weren't for me. Do not forget that, Uther Pendragon. You are nothing without me!"_

_With that, Nimueh turned on her heel and left Uther Pendragon sobbing on the floor of the Council Chamber. _

_She swore that she would never again seek to renew any relationship with that man. She would never admit that he was the one who had taught her heart to beat and in the same stroke, he was the one who had crushed it…but it was for the last time. _

_Nimueh hurried to her chambers, glancing out the window. She would need her cloak, for the morning was damp and grey. She had only one goal and that was to leave all this behind. She entered her chambers noisily, rummaging for her traveling cloak. _

_She saw Morgana tossing in her sleep and her heart sank. She could not leave this child of magic behind with these fools. As little as she genuinely cared for Morgana, she was starting to appreciate the lengths to which mothers would go to have children. And she had been blessed by the Old Religion with two daughters. One of whom was no longer really hers, for Morgause saw Viviane as her true mother, but perhaps there was still time for Morgana to fill that empty space in Nimueh's heart that was reserved for her child. _

_She gathered a few of Morgana's dresses in a bundle and lifted her off the bed. Morgana started to cry at the strangeness of her own mother's arms and Nimueh tried to hush her, but to no avail. Hearing Morgana's cries, Gorlois came in from the adjoined room. _

"_Where are you going?" he asked angrily, surveying Nimueh in her cloak. "I haven't seen you in three days!" Gorlois slammed the door shut and Morgana cried even louder. _

_Gorlois was looking at Nimueh with a mixture of disappointment and anger. _

_She took a step back, still holding Morgana. She was actually afraid of him. Uther's anger, she could face…but Gorlois, she had never seen angry. She had hoped to run away without facing him…like a coward. _

_Nimueh said in an impassive tone, "Ygraine is dead. There is an heir now, but Uther blames my magic and me for causing her death." Her voice broke as she said, "He never wants to see me again. I am leaving…this time for good and I will take Morgana with me." As she spoke the last words, she tried to move past him but he blocked her way. _

"_Ygraine is dead?" His voice was filled with regret. _

_Nimueh felt bitterness that Ygraine somehow had a power over even her husband. She had a power that Nimueh never could have…Ygraine was loved by everyone. "Yes," Nimueh spat. "Now, let me leave. There is nothing left for me here."_

"_What about us?" Gorlois looked at his wife intensely, voicing the question that had been ringing in his mind since he had arrived in Camelot. "Why have you abandoned us for the past months? And why are you leaving us now?"_

"_I am not leaving Morgana, I am leaving you!" _

_For a second, Gorlois was deeply hurt by her sharp words and stood frozen while she darted past his outstretched arm towards the door. _

_Her hand reached for the doorknob._

"_I've seen the way you look at him," Gorlois said quietly before he could help himself. _

_Nimueh stopped and slowly turned to face Gorlois' upright back. "What are you talking about?" _

_Morgana had quieted and started to doze off. _

"_Do you take me for a fool, Nimueh? Do you think I do not see how your smiles are only for him? How your laughter only rings in his presence? You haven't come near me or Morgana since we arrived here. We are your family and he is just your King. What were you thinking?" At this point, he faced her and saw that her face was ashen as she clutched Morgana tighter. "I did not want to say anything earlier because I would be questioning your honor and I am not so low a man as that. But speak, Nimueh, did you think that killing Ygraine would bring Uther to you?" _

_It was as though he understood the darkest corners of her soul, unlike Uther, who had never even glanced there. "I did not kill her," Nimueh said in a shaky voice. "It was magic. I did not…"_

"_But it was your magic," he said speaking the biggest truth of all. He took a step towards her and she stumbled back, feeling her back hit the hard door. _

"_If you blame me then hand me over to Uther to be hanged or better yet, kill me yourself!" _

_He took another step towards her. "I could never do that to you. Despite everything you have done, I am not so cold-hearted as you." Gorlois was looking at her with inscrutable eyes. "If you cared for us at all, you will leave Morgana here and never try to seek her out. I do not want an inch of your shadow falling on her." _

"_Gorlois, don't be childish. She is a daughter of magic and she will not be schooled here properly. It could be dangerous!" Nimueh was surprised at her own stubbornness to keep Morgana. Was she coming to care for this child after all?_

"_I don't want that evil magic that you have abused to be a part of her. She is no longer your daughter, as I am no longer your husband," he said ruthlessly, his arms folded over his chest. _

_Nimueh hesitated for a brief instant. She walked with her head lowered to the bed and carefully placed Morgana among the pillows. As she lifted her hand from the back of Morgana's head, she suddenly realized that she had thrown away her chance at a family and a home for an obsessive fantasy. But now there was no going back. _

_She returned to the door and she raised her head to look at Gorlois for the last time. And this time when she faced him, she appreciated what it would be like to love such a man, who was clearly superior to Uther in every way. It would have been easier than breathing had she given it a try. Only if she had swallowed her ego and accepted that to Gorlois she was not a goddess, but just a very human wife. Yet, it was enough for him, whereas her ethereal nature had never been enough for Uther. _

_She absent-mindedly pulled off the bracelet he had given her as a wedding gift and held it out to him. The crest of the House of Gorlois shimmered before her eyes. _

_He took the bracelet from her, but instead of keeping it, he grabbed her wrist tightly and slipped the bracelet back on. "Keep it," he said. "It's yours. It'll remind you of what we could have had…" _

_Gorlois had lost his strength to fight once he knew that Morgana would be safe with him. Now he felt the sorrow washing over him…he felt like a broken man. The woman he loved with all his being was leaving…_

_Nimueh turned to open the door, but Gorlois was still holding her wrist. _

_For a long time, she stood waiting for him to let go of his hold on her wrist. She turned back to face him and almost fearfully looked up at his face. His eyes were filled with hurt and he released her hand only to place his hands on the door, on either side of her body. _

_He moved closer and he was so close that she could see the tears clinging to his eyelashes. Desperately, he said, "Tell me, did you even love me at all? Even for a moment?" He paused and her large blue eyes answered his question, but he shook his head disbelievingly and spoke again. "No…don't answer that. I would rather die thinking that you did." He abruptly lowered his arms and walked away from her, towards Morgana._

_She was free to leave and she hustled out the door. Years of anger, resentment, jealousy, sadness and love seemed to pour out through her continuous tears…_

… _Uther's men had followed Nimueh to the Isle of the Blessed and had one by one, slaughtered the unsuspecting, peaceful magic folk. _

_The fires raged around the Isle as men, women and children ran screaming for help. But there was no escape. _

_Viviane gathered Nimueh into her arms and ignoring Morgause's sobs, she said, "Nimueh take Morgause and the remaining sisters praying in the temple and flee before they get here!" _

"_I'll take you with me," Nimueh said urgently. _

"_This isle is my home. I must perish with it. Go to the Continent and always remember that the powers of the Old Religion are with you…but do not forget this: that the laws of magic and non-magic are irrelevant. Above all, value life, love and goodness." Viviane spoke calmly because she had been prepared for this moment for a long time. She kissed Morgause and then Nimueh, pushing them to the altar where a few priestesses were praying in terror, while around them the walls of the temple were burning. _

_Though Nimueh heard Viviane's words, she did not accept them in her mind. The only reason she was leaving her home without much protest was because she knew she had to survive this…to return and make Uther Pendragon rue the day he had dared to kill her family and friends…_

_Viviane watched as Nimueh teleported the priestesses to safety. She could hear the overwhelming army of soldiers destroying her home and closing in on her. She knelt and looked to the heavens. She had brought this upon herself when she had failed to see beyond her overpowering love for her sister. She had only wanted Nimueh to be happy and so had allowed her to linger far too long with a man she had seriously misjudged. She had turned a blind eye to everything Uther did for the sake of a prophecy…this was her punishment for that mistake. _

_In her greed and haste to quickly have magic flourish in Albion, her decisions had now halted the progression of magical influence in the kingdom for several decades. _

_Perhaps, Uther's heir would see beyond the sins of his father and have even further sight than she…_

_The soldiers began to pour into the circular room, but they did not dare to approach her. She saw the parting of the crowd as they allowed their King to pass. _

_The last thing she saw was Uther Pendragon's raised sword and she closed her eyes, praying for his own forgiveness._

* * *

"You know the rest…Uther went on a rampage killing anyone who practiced magic. I was spared only because I swore to give up magic and because I gave Uther names of those I suspected of dark sorcery. Though I tried to protect the innocent, many magicians labeled me as a traitor. I know I was a coward…but you must remember that I had nowhere to go. I had long since given up my position in the Old Religion and Uther was the only refuge I had. Though I was horrified by Uther's atrocities, I could understand that all of his actions were merely cries for help by his tortured and maimed soul. He wanted a release from his own internal hell."

Arthur wanted release from this _hell _that he was reliving through Gaius' words. How could someone avenge their love for a lost one through such hateful means? Throughout his own life, he had gone through periods where he had questioned his father's unilateral stand on magical people, but now he did not know what to think.

His thoughts were muddled and he irrationally turned to his side, looking for Merlin, who could help lighten the load he was feeling on his shoulders with an ill-timed joke. Instead, his eyes met Gwen's wide, concerned ones and he turned away from her and pulled his hand from hers. He had sent Merlin away too…

Perhaps he was becoming like his father…isolating himself until he died alone and friendless. Arthur felt most unlike himself. He wanted to get away from everyone, he didn't deserve their sympathy, he didn't deserve their respect, he didn't deserve their love. They expected him to be a Prince, a King, a friend even…but could he? When person after person in his life had lied to him continuously, not trusting him in any way…did they think him so worthless that he could not handle the truth?

Gaius rolled on, eager to finish the story that had turned into a droning nightmare. "Nimueh fled as soon as Ygraine died, perhaps fearing for her own life. Uther slaughtered all of her kind and I can only assume that she bided her time on the Continent, fostering her hate for your father and fostering that in her daughter, Morgause, as well. I never fully understood the relationship between Nimueh and your father. But, Nimueh knew full well that your father's greatest weakness was the love for your mother and Morgause must have assumed that _your_ greatest desire would be to know Ygraine…and she used that against you to try and cause your father's death. As for Nimueh's other daughter…Morgana…you recall when the Knights of Medhir had come under Morgause's will. I believe that Morgana was working with Morgause at that time…"

"WHAT?" Arthur yelled.

Gaius explained, "I am sure Merlin told you when you found out about his magic, that the reason for his gifts was to protect you and Camelot. Merlin had only one way to stop the knights…and that was to destroy the vessel that was channeling the spell. The vessel… was Morgana. He was forced to poison her, but Morgause came in time and took her away, evidently saving her. I feared then that Morgana's loyalties had changed, but we could never dare tell your father this. Morgana, like Nimueh, has a gift. Hers is that of a Seer…you remember the nightmares she always had. She could predict the future before it came to pass and after training under Morgause, I suspect that it was she who used her magic to cause Uther to have hallucinations of his darkest memories. After you left, Uther slowly deteriorated, losing the will to eat, sleep and before our eyes, he wasted away."

Arthur had listened to this latest twist in even more disbelief, if that was even possible. His servant had killed Morgana? Morgana had _died _and come back to life? She had _magic_? Arthur thought that he was hallucinating. "So…what you mean to say is that Morgana is the cause of my father's death?" he asked in a trance.

Gaius did not respond and Arthur had his answer.

Arthur stood up and cast the stick he had been poking into the ground on the fire. They had been around the fire for nearly two hours.

None of them had noticed this till now, but all the knights had long since stopped gossiping about Arthur and Guinevere. They had been pretending to sleep, while listening to Gaius' intriguing tale.

Seeing the knights sprawled on the ground far too close to the fire, Arthur's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His men had heard the whole drama behind his birth. How could he face them as the son of the biggest hypocrite, as the master of a magical servant and as the foster brother of a murderer? They must think him to be a complete fool because he had known _nothing_ the whole time.

Maybe Morgause _was _better suited to rule than him. From the brief moments that he had seen her, she may have manipulated him…but she was not naïve and she was no weakling.

Gaius found his voice again, but Gwen got to her feet seeing Arthur's disturbed face. "Do you have much more to share, Gaius? It's getting late and I think Arthur is tired," she said softly.

Gaius opened his mouth and felt sorry for the Prince, but willed himself to continue. "I just want to tell you about Merlin and the dragon. And there's also the matter of…"

"_Enough_." Arthur had never sounded so forceful and menacing. It was as though Uther was speaking from his lips. "I do not want to hear anymore."

Arthur stalked off to his tent, forgetting his initial intention of sleeping outside with his knights. He collapsed on the bed Lancelot had prepared earlier and curled up like he used to when he was a child. He was so angry…at his father, at Gaius, at Merlin, at Lancelot, at Morgana…at _himself_.

He wanted to pick up a sword and fight his father as he had done that one time before, but it suddenly hit him that he would never see his father again. And despite everything he had heard today, Arthur felt tears rolling down his cheeks as he thought of his family…Uther and Morgana…both of whom were lost to him.

The tent flap opened and Gwen slipped in noiselessly. She made her way towards his bed and lay down next to him. She hesitated at first, but tried to cuddle up to him as she stroked his face. He made no move to acknowledge her presence. She tried to put her arm around him, but he pushed it away and turned away from her.

Though she felt hurt by his coldness, she reminded herself that he had undergone an extremely traumatic experience and most importantly, he was _alive_. They would talk about this later…

She kissed the back of his head and left silently.

Arthur tried to close his eyes and sleep, though he knew he would get no rest. Horrific images of things he had never even witnessed crossed his mind…

He was scared of stepping into his father's shoes because he feared it would change him into the tortured soul that his father had become.

This was the end of his sheltered life as he had known it and he wondered if they had all been right to lie to him all along.

They _were _right…he couldn't handle the truth.


	12. Chapter 11

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: We hope you enjoyed the previous chapter (we did :P), as it was our last big tie up of trying to explain seasons 1 & 2 in our own way. From this chapter onwards, we move into our own original ideas/story, which is kind of awesome!_

_To those who have not yet reviewed, please do :) You don't need to make an account, and we really would love to hear from you! To our wonderful reviewers, thank you once again! We can't emphasize how much your feedback makes a difference - both to what we write, as well as to our motivation to continue writing. With school starting again, we're far too busy with integrating Merlin and medicine (taking Gaius to the next level)...but don't worry! We are not giving up on this story ever! That being said, just be prepared that chapters will be taking a little longer from now on to come out. They will definitely be worth the wait - that we can promise. Or at least we can TRY to promise :D_

_To end off, a little poem:_

_You may notice, in this chapter_

_There's some seriousness...and perhaps a little laughter._

_We're sure you'll enjoy the magician names,_

_To come up with new ones were part of many games!_

_Just so you know, Nilrhoem is pronounced "Nil-reem"_

_It may come in useful, for things are not what they seem._

_With that fun fact and a slight clue_

_We must now leave you!_

**

* * *

Chapter 11**

"Not all that have fallen are vanquished;

A king may yet be without crown,

A blade that was broken be brandished;

And towers that were strong may fall down.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king."

~ J.R.R. Tolkien

_

* * *

And then the fighting ceased, as soldiers from both sides gathered to watch the battle between their respective leaders commence. _

_One side waited with tense anticipation, actually hoping for their malicious lord's demise. The other side prayed with baited breath for their noble chief's victory. _

_The setting sun illuminated the bodies strewn over the battlefield. _

_Domhnaill the Brave charged forward with all his might towards his opponent, with his gleaming, mighty weapon in hand. _

_Seeing his options were few, Suileabháin,__ with spiteful eyes, cast a spell upon the dust beneath them, causing it to swirl around the just Domhnaill. _

_Blinded by the sand, Domhnaill's sword missed its mark and lodged instead in __Suileabháin's black shield. _

_The soldiers of both parties were aghast for Suileabháin had broken the most sacred covenant that they had agreed upon – there was to be no magic used in battle. _

_Suileabháin cast aside the shield that had protected his body and rushed at Domhnaill while he still was rubbing his eyes in confusion. The sword swiftly pierced Domhnaill's abdomen and he fell backwards to the ground. _

_Suileabháin leered over his fallen foe and said, "Brother, you prided yourself on your ability to trust. But look where it has brought you – at my feet! That is the power of my magic, not like your charitable imitation…" He could not complete his sentence as Domnhnaill had reached for a fallen spear and with one final burst of energy, he had driven it into Suileabháin's chest, where it splintered and pierced his heart. _

_They lay side by side, each taking their last breath… _

_The two brothers were united in death. _

_The soldiers of both lords wept with tears of joy that __Suileabháin's evil reign had finally ended, but then began to wail with despair for their good chief,__ Domhnaill, had left no heir. Who would be able to succeed this glorious man? _

_Suddenly the crowd parted as a youth that no one had ever seen before ventured steadily forward. His face shone with a noble grace and though he exuded confidence, his disposition was full of humility. His eyes bore traces of wisdom and compassion far beyond his years as he strode forward while removing his cloak. _

_The lad respectfully kissed Domhnaill's forehand and covered his lifeless body carefully with his cloak. He rose to his feet and though no one overtly seemed to be instructing him, he instinctively appeared to know what to do. _

_The soldiers watched silently, their heavy spirits lifting for no apparent reason. _

_The young man made for the discarded shield, where Domhnaill's trusted blade still lay embedded. Placing his foot firmly on the shield of evil, he grasped the hilt and in one fluid motion, pulled the sword from the shield. _

_The last rays of sunlight made the blade grow as if it was ablaze. He held it over his head as the crowd cheered unanimously. _

"_Hail to the new King!" someone cried and they all took up the chant._

_They rushed forward to embrace and kiss the hands of the lord they would now follow to death. He had been a King from the moment they had seen him – this gesture only established that he had a kingdom to rule. _

_It was not the pulling of a sword from the enemy's shield; it was the pulling of faith from their desperate hearts. _

* * *

Morgana waited at the entrance for the black-clad magicians to open the heavy doors to the Great Hall. It was still such a change to see her sister's new aides around the castle, busy performing the duties that Uther's knights used to. She made a mental note to ask Morgause what had become of the knights…

She was not surprised to see a crowd of sorcerers surrounding her sister at the end of the Great Hall. Morgana had not woken late but it appeared that Morgause was already well-immersed in the day's affairs.

Gracefully lifting the hem of the dress that her new maidservant, Lorraine, had picked out for her this morning, Morgana made her way towards the throne. Lorraine's manner was not as gentle as Gwen's and Morgana wondered for the thousandth time where her handmaiden…where her _friend_ had disappeared to in the past month.

Morgana's purple dress was one of her finest and yet she felt underdressed compared to her Queen.

Morgause was decked from head to toe in jewellery, and her blond locks, which usually fell carelessly to her shoulders, were now coiled artistically beneath her crown. Her dress was not just impressive…it challenged the observer with a dare in every fall of its fabric: "Trump this" it seemed to say.

Those that stood circling her were cloaked in long, dark robes and the scene around the throne formed an usual picture as they looked somber, while Morgause sparkled in their presence.

Catching sight of Morgana, she interrupted the man who had been speaking and said directly to her younger sister, "My dearest, you look radiant as usual."

Morgana knew it was her cue to compliment her sister. "I pale in comparison to your beauty today. The ruby in your belt is simply breathtaking."

Morgause smiled widely and nodded for the rest of the magicians to disperse.

As Morgause rose from the throne to embrace her, Morgana once again had to remind herself that this was no dream. Though the Pendragon banner fell from the walls as it used to in the old days and the Great Hall was as splendid as ever, she would have _never_ had a conversation with Arthur or Uther about dress patterns…or jewellery.

The lump in her throat had still not gone away. It had appeared the moment Morgause had gently told her that Arthur had died in battle. She remembered clinging to Morgause and sobbing for her most loved family member. She had recounted tales of their childhood together to her sister who had sat attentively and patiently listened for hours. After that day, she had wanted to forget her pain and had confined herself in her chambers for over a week. Her only visitor had been her caring sister, Morgause, who had brought her food, news from the palace…and love. Though it was also Morgause's first week as ruler, she had done more for Morgana than any sister would have.

When they had initially made their plan to end Uther's regime, Morgana had hoped that Morgause could have stayed by Arthur's side and helped to bring magic back to Camelot. But now that Arthur was gone, she supposed that this _was _the next best alternative…

As she breathed in her sister's scent, she was brought back to reality. She felt Morgause hug her close as she did everyday and remembered that they had to hold onto each other because they only _had_ one another.

Morgause pulled away and lifted Morgana's chin. "How are you feeling today?" she asked fondly.

Looking into Morgause's hazel eyes, Morgana thought about the mother she had never known. Morgause had often told her about Nimueh in their year together and from those stories, she had formed this image in her head of a lady who was both benevolent and victimized. Her mother was someone who had been hurt and abandoned by one whom she had trusted and had been forced to leave Gorlois because of Uther's hate…but somehow through Morgause, Morgana felt connected for the first time in her life to her elusive mother.

The truth was, though she hated Uther's actions, she could no longer bring herself to hate the man. Morgause had forbidden Uther from having a royal funeral and being buried anywhere in the city. And Morgana…she could understand her sister's sentiments. However, she couldn't leave Uther lying nameless and undignified in a ditch somewhere. Though Morgause had not been very pleased, she had allowed Morgana to take Uther's body outside of the capital.

Morgana had watched as Uther's coffin was placed into the ground next to her father's and had thought it was only fitting that both her fathers lay in peace side by side. Crying at his burial had robbed her of the last remnants of hate. Regardless of whether her actions had towards Uther had been right or wrong, she was now ready to move on…

She shook herself and forced her mind to focus on the present. Ever since her Seer abilities had been honed, she had found herself drifting between the past, present and future. "I slept very well last night," she replied. It was fortunate that Gorlois' bracelet that Morgause had forcefully given to Morgana as a birthright was now merely a keepsake, and not a talisman.

Morgause took Morgana's arm and said, "We must go down to the vaults and see how the excavation is progressing. A new batch of magicians came in yesterday - they all seem very enthused about this new reign and are already helping us down there. In fact, they have come from even further inland this time…"

They were walking arm in arm out of the Great Hall and descended down the stairs to the courtyard.

"Did Mordred send them?" enquired Morgana. She had been glad to hear that Mordred was so highly placed in Morgause's ranks and that he had, from all accounts, accepted her sister as easily as he had her. "Have you heard from him at all?" she probed.

"I haven't heard from him directly but many of the new arrivals have spoken to me about him in complete awe. Why, haven't you been in touch with him?"

Morgana looked around the courtyard, which was far less busy than it had been in Uther's reign. All the common folk were nowhere to be seen but here and there she could see a few people in dark robes standing about.

On the surface, everything appeared normal – ordinary even - but on closer examination, scrubs were scrubbing the cobblestones themselves, horses were being saddled without hands, stacks of hay were being unloaded off carts without effort…

She smiled in general appreciation at the overt use of magic as she replied to Morgause. "I _have _tried to contact Mordred. I was successful in talking to him once, but even though I have been leaving the borders of the city to escape the unknown barrier, I am now unable to reach his mind." Morgana was not too worried though for as long as magicians kept arriving, it meant that Mordred's job was being done with little resistance.

They reached the steps to the vault and both gathered their long trains in one hand as they went down carefully.

"Why can't you ask some of the new magicians who have come about why there are these barriers, and whether they can help you remove them?" Morgana asked.

Morgause shook her head. "I've told you…I haven't seen anything like it before. And it's unlikely that any of these mediocre magicians will be able to help."

Halfway down the stairs, the sisters met a man with shaggy brown hair that Morgana did not recognize. He gave a deep bow and reached forward to kiss Morgause's hands.

Morgause turned to Morgana. "This is Delbondo from the Continent. He just arrived last night." She addressed the young apprentice. "How is the progress down there?"

"They found a heavily guarded unusual-looking crystal and I was sent to inform you of this," he said in a raspy voice, his eyes gazing at Morgana in appreciation.

"Thank you," said Morgause curtly as she took Morgana's hand, leading her further downstairs.

There were mainly men and some women sorting through the Uther's treasure hoard. Morgana was slowly getting used to seeing so many magicians, but it still surprised her to see _this _many.

"Shouldn't you be involving non-magic people in this project? They too should be a part of this new regime."

Morgause absent-mindedly heard Morgana's concern as she was looking through a pile of luxurious silks that Louis, another magician from the Continent, had brought to her. "All in good time, Morgana. Right now it is most important to gain the loyalty of the nobles in this land." She indicated to the various piles of gold that had been separated from the main treasury. "I am going to offer this gold to the nobles as a token of goodwill." Morgause conveniently failed to mention however that this money was actually going to be used _against_ the nobles to buy their seals of nobility and in essence strip them of their status.

They maneuvered around the various piles and people, who all bowed reverentially. A woman approached bravely and said, "Your highness, there is a crystal which I believe to be extremely powerful lying in the deepest vault. Shall I take you there?"

Morgause nodded impatiently and tugged on Morgana's arm. When they arrived in the small enclosure, she dismissed the lady graciously.

Morgana immediately recognized the shining crystal on the velvet pillow.

Morgause's eyes reflected the crystal's image and a small smirk was playing on her face. "Uther has kept this from our kind for long," she declared.

"This is the crystal that I stole from Uther…what's so special about it?" Morgana asked, seeing Morgause behold the crystal with the same reverence as Alvarr had. She knew it was a powerful object, but wanted to understand more. Morgause always did seem to have all the answers.

"This…crystal…," said Morgause slowly. "It contains the essential spirit that binds us all by the Old Religion. It was stolen by _Uther _from my Lady Viviane."

"I don't understand…how can it contain the essence of my power?"

Morgause with one slender finger stroked the crystal. "In the olden days, the priestesses would use this to imbibe the power of those they believed to be misusing magic. It was the worst punishment for any magical being because dispossessing one of their magic is like leaving them soulless." Morgause paused and looked directly at Morgana. "Viviane, our aunt, did not agree with these practices and so kept this crystal far away for it could do so much damage. Because it absorbed all the powers of its many victims, it enables the user to possess skills they do not have." Morgause clarified further. "For example, for one who is not a Seer, the crystal can be used See the future…but much more importantly, it amplifies the strength of any spell that you cast by drawing on the powers of the spirits inside."

Morgana felt the pull of the crystal for the second time in her life. "I have held it and felt its power. Can you teach me how to use it?" She reached for the crystal.

Her path was blocked by Morgause's outstretched arm. "No! Only the most powerful sorcerers can wield it," said Morgause with a hint of annoyance. She did not want to admit it, but she had tried once as a child to use the crystal and had failed miserably. She had been more upset at her inability to wield the crystal, than at Viviane's fury upon finding the young Morgause unconscious, holding the damned object.

This was the only object that could threaten her reign now…if someone _was _able to channel the power of this ancient crystal...

She began to chant complex protection spells as Morgana stood silently by her side. When she opened her eyes, she felt more secure. "No one can now enter this chamber but one of Viviane's blood."

She took Morgana's hand again. "Promise me you will guard this secret with your life."

"I swear it, sister," said Morgana solemnly.

Morgause flashed her an approving grin, and they left the vault, locking the small door behind them.

When they entered the courtyard once more, the sun had appeared from behind the clouds and the castle seemed to warm up instantly.

Morgause beckoned to a man who was standing around, not looking particularly busy. She had made an effort to remember all of their names. "Antoniol," she said in a pleasant tone. "You arrived last week, didn't you? Have you met the Lady Morgana?"

He came closer and rather breathlessly, he responded. "No, my queen. I have not yet had that pleasure."

Antoniol bent his gangly limbs into a bow and raised his eyes to Morgana's blushing face with obvious desire.

Again, Morgause spoke pointedly. "The Lady wishes to know what business you will be overseeing in Camelot."

"I was just going to…ensure that the banners in the Great Hall were changed," he said as he rushed off, glancing back one more time at Morgana.

"I have never seen a man so willing to work," Morgause said jokingly.

Morgana blushed and gave her a friendly shove. "Stop using me to get these new recruits to do your dirty work!"

Morgause laughed. "It is not my fault! They have been deprived for too long, poor things. I do what I can to keep my kingdom running. Come, dine with me sister. It is nearly noon."

As they reached the foot of the stairs leading up to the castle, a young man came bounding down the stairs two at a time. His head was bent. Unaware of where he was going, he consequently nearly trampled over the royal sisters.

He stopped abruptly on the third last step and looked up almost fearfully. "Uhm…" Finally, remembering his manners, he bowed deeply.

Morgause said, "You seem to be in a rush, Nilrhoem." She looked at Morgana. "He arrived yesterday from the southern deserts among a huge party of magicians."

Morgana wasn't surprised by this information because his skin was brown and his hair was dark and curly. His face was rounded, and he had a long nose; his black eyes appeared to be quick and clever. Tall and slim, he sported a scruffy beard, which was most unlike men his age. Though Morgana's green eyes were openly staring at his unique appearance, he seemed to be avoiding her gaze at all costs.

Instead, his eyes fell on Morgause, taking in her extravagant style. "Deepest apologies," he said in a low voice. "I was just going to salvage what was remaining of our common magical history from the library. I heard that Uther had many books locked up or burnt during the Purge." His words were laced with a slight accent, making his pronunciation sound very deliberate.

Morgause flirtatiously raised an eyebrow. "You are an intellectual, I see. Be thorough in your search."

"I will, my lady." He bowed again and without so much as a glance towards Morgana, he headed off purposefully.

Morgause started walking up the steps and Morgana slowly followed, looking back towards Nilrhoem's retreating back, which soon disappeared into a doorway.

"Hurry, Morgana…" called Morgause. "I must say, at least _one_ man prefers me to you," she added, her tone half amused, half serious.

Morgana continued to look back as she replied, "Yes…indeed he does."

* * *

Nilrhoem closed the door quickly behind him and rested his back against it in relief. The library was cool and dimly lit and he felt the flush that had risen in his cheeks disappearing. He had been trying to avoid Morgana all morning and there she was…and he felt like kicking himself at his stupidity.

The library was completely deserted, just as he had hoped. His thoughts returned to his purpose. He needed to find the librarian.

His eyes adjusted to the darkened room and he stumbled over a stack of books, waking up the librarian who had been dozing in a corner.

"Who goes there!" yelled Geoffrey, with an unusual hint of anger in his voice. Catching Nilrhoem's unfamiliar appearance and magician robes, Geoffrey stood up from his seat and staggered forward. "Have you come here to destroy my library too? Have your people not done enough?"

Geoffrey was close enough that Nilrhoem could smell the stench of ale on his breath. "No, no…Geoffrey. It's me!"

Geoffrey looked at him as if he had gone mad. "You? You who? I have never seen you before. Now get out of here." Geoffrey picked up a particularly heavy volume as if to threaten the powerful magician.

Nilrhoem with one wave of his hand, muttered a quick spell under his breath and instantly changed his appearance to one Geoffrey would remember.

"Gaius' boy?" Geoffrey exclaimed in surprise, dropping the book on his own feet.

He grimaced in pain and hobbled towards Merlin.

"It's me…Merlin," confirmed the intruder.

Merlin looked and sounded like his usual self, though in different clothes. A faint beard that outlined his pale skin was the only change in his appearance. He reached forward to grasp Geoffrey's hand. "I don't have much time. I need your help…but let me first reassure you. Arthur is alive and Gaius has joined his party. Morgause has wrongly usurped the throne and we must get it back for Arthur."

Geoffrey exhaled in relief and held onto a nearby table tightly for support as he absorbed Merlin's words. "Thank god…these past few weeks have been like hell," he slurred. "I am glad to hear they're safe." He shook his head trying to clear his vision. "How were you able to change your form?"

Merlin didn't need to respond for Geoffrey answered his own question. "You have _magic_? I thought you were just…a clumsy servant."

Merlin shrugged. Everyone saw him as a bumbling idiot, but it was going to be _he_ who brought back Arthur to his rightful throne. Soon everyone would see his true worth and maybe he would _finally_ get some respect. Even though that seemed like a cheery prospect, it was not what motivated him. Merlin knew he would have continued to serve Arthur as long as he lived…even if he never got any credit for it.

He sat down on a stool and said, "It does not matter that I have magic. It only matters that I am loyal to Arthur. And we must bring him back. The only problem is, I have been in hiding within the city for the past few weeks, and…well, it seems like Morgause has silenced the majority who would have followed Arthur and thus ostracized the non-magical people." Merlin jiggled his foot anxiously as Geoffrey looked at him transfixed.

"Is there a way to bring the Crown Prince to the throne without bloodshed and treason?" Merlin asked, hoping Geoffrey's knowledge would guide him.

Geoffrey shuffled towards a bucket of water that was standing on the table next to him and splashed water on his face. He turned around to face Merlin again and droplets of water were still clinging to his white beard.

Seeming more alert, he said, "Uther proclaimed Morgause Queen in his own words…in front of hundreds of witnesses. There is no way we can now refute that. Though the majority of them support Arthur, they are scared of rebelling against magic. It's not just them - how will you win the allegiance of the magicians in general, when Morgause can give them so much more?" Geoffrey gestured impatiently. "You must have seen how many she has summoned to this city. They will not go quietly and many more are coming."

"But Arthur is the Prince…this is all a lie! And I know, given some time, he will definitely accept magic and treat magicians well..." He wanted to believe his own words. "Has there ever been a situation like this where a legitimate heir needed to be publicly accepted, without war breaking out?" Merlin was desperate. He had spent the last few weeks scouring in the city and from what he had seen, the people had accepted their new ruler far too easily. Though Morgause had outwardly done nothing to harm the common public, just the mere presence of magicians wandering around Camelot had frightened everyone out of their wits.

Merlin now doubted whether these people would fight in the name of the Prince they had once loved dearly. His original plan was to feed off the attitudes in the lower town to dethrone Morgause, but he had realized that he needed to take even more drastic action. Merlin had thought he could easily rile the citizens of Camelot to rebel against Morgause, but she wisely had done nothing to instigate an uprising. And this was the reason why he had thrown caution to the winds and assumed a disguise…to get closer to the court, to gain some insight into Morgause's plans, to truly be one of _them_.

Geoffrey paused and furrowed his brows in concentration. "There's nothing I can think of…but let us consult some books." He looked slightly happier as he waddled towards the nearest bookshelf and began to pull out musty history books.

Merlin threw his head back in frustration. "Oh…no," he said under his breath, wondering what he had gotten himself into…

… Page after page, line after line, word after word seemed to blur together as Merlin read on and on and on…

Hours later, he threw down another volume of _History of the Kings of the Island _with no luck. It was near midnight now and the candles that they had been reading with were nearly burnt to the wick.

Geoffrey had long since dozed off and he was now snoring with his face in a book.

Merlin got to his feet to stretch out his limbs. He had taken off his black cloak much earlier; he was still not used to the standard new uniform for the magicians of Morgause's Camelot. He moved to the nearby table and held the sides of the bucket with his hands as he dunked his face into the cold water willingly, hoping it would wake him up.

When he lifted his dripping head, a colourful cover lying on the floor caught his attention. He saw the title: _Myths and Tales of Druidic Lore_.

"This should be a nice break," he muttered to himself as he wondered how this book had managed to escape Uther's magical purge. He reached for the hardcover book and began to flip through it.

_The bumblebee flew from flower to flower searching for the nectar that would transform it into a human…_

Merlin flipped the page. This book seemed harmless enough – almost like bedtime stories for children.

…_treasure chest lay open on the ground, with sparkling gold coins everywhere. The snake slithered towards the gold, followed by the young witch. _

"_I can now save my family from torture!" she cried gleefully. _

Merlin nearly laughed out loud at the oddity of these stories and situations. He continued to rifle through the book, occasionally pausing when he saw the word dragon, or king. Now and then, he chuckled, for some stories were quite ludicrous while others had a serious undertone. He was nearing the end of the book when a sentence caught his eye.

_He had been a King from the moment they had seen him – this gesture only established that he had a kingdom to rule._

Merlin's eyes widened as he began to read from the beginning.

By the time he reached the end, a plan had begun to formulate in his mind.

This was exactly what the people needed. They needed to be reminded of their faith…they needed to learn that they had someone in whom they could implicitly place their trust.

He now had all the pieces of the puzzle. He just needed to fit them together.

Running to Geoffrey, he prodded him awake and pointed to the story. "This. _This_ is our answer."

Geoffrey looked where he was pointing with bleary eyes, not understanding. "How? How will this help?"

Merlin took a deep breath and read out the final sentence. "It was not the pulling of a sword from the enemy's shield; it was the pulling of faith from their desperate hearts."


	13. Chapter 12

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: There's something funny about writing our story after Season 3 began to air...it feels like the new season is sort of a dream and our story is actually what happened after the end of Season 2! And it certainly doesn't help that we discuss our story with each other so often that it becomes more and more validated in our minds. Anyway, we can definitely attribute our hardcore-ness towards this story to you wonderful reviewers. _

_So basically, we don't really have anything witty or smart to say today since it's pretty late and we had a LONG day at school (if you googled 'dedication to non-academic work' you'd find several high resolution pictures of us). Sorry, couldn't resist the bad joke. _

_To summarize what we're trying to say: We really like Merlin. If you reviewed, you get a gold star. We like to tell bad jokes and have people laugh at them. And we also would love it if you REVIEW because if you don't, in the next chapter we will be tempted to turn Arthur into a warthog and Merlin into a meerkat (which might not be so bad because Colin Morgan would be the cutest meerkat ever!). _

* * *

**Chapter 12**

"With jewels, elfin Urim, on the hilt,

Bewildering heart and eye — the blade so bright

That men are blinded by it — on one side,

Graven in the oldest tongue of all this world,

"Take me," but turn the blade and ye shall see,

And written in the speech ye speak yourself,

"Cast me away!""

~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson

"Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil is rightwise king born of all England."

~ Sir Thomas Malory

* * *

"Gaius, you are a miracle worker!" Gwen exclaimed as she supported Sir Tor's first feeble steps within the tent.

It had been only a week since Gwen and Gaius had arrived and the two had already saved the lives of many of Arthur's knights. The injured were now well on their way to recovery and only a few remained in the infirmary tent, waiting for their broken bones to heal.

Gaius was unwrapping a bandage on a knight's ankle when he looked up at Gwen's face, which was shining with perspiration. Her eyes had dark circles underneath, but they sparkled with happiness.

"I couldn't have done this without you, Gwen. You have been so good…taking them for walks, feeding them wholesome meals…and keeping their spirits high! That is the most important quality of a healer," said Gaius with pride at his young apprentice's progress.

Gwen felt Sir Tor squeeze her shoulder gratefully as she smiled up at him. All of the knights had gained tremendous respect for the girl who had been just week ago, a mere servant in their eyes. In order to care for the sick, she had slept in the infirmary. They would wake her up in the middle of the night with their cries of pain and she would rush to their side, sacrificing her sleep for theirs.

Sir Tor and Gwen took another round slowly around the tent and she helped him settle down on his cot before addressing Gaius. She put her hand on Gaius' shoulder and led him to the mouth of the tent. Lowering her voice, she said, "Gaius, maybe we should talk to Arthur about returning to Camelot. There is no point in delaying now – all the knights are ready to travel…"

They both glanced at Arthur's tent, which was visible at the other end of the clearing. The rest of their campsite was deserted because Leon, the default second in command, had taken the other knights hunting – they had been growing restless too.

Gaius responded quietly, "Have you even talked to him? He hasn't spoken a word to me since that day…"

Gwen shook her head worriedly. Arthur had been a ghost for the past week. He appeared at mealtimes, but took his food and ate it alone in his tent. He would disappear for hours into the forest and everyone had been concerned by this behaviour; Gwen had even tried to stop him once, but he shook her off brusquely and left anyway despite her protests. She no longer attempted to approach him and kept herself busy with helping Gaius and the other knights.

"I don't know what's wrong with him," Gwen said exasperatedly. "It's like he's a different person. He needs to be reminded that people depend on him and that he has a duty. I don't know what will happen when we reach Camelot and I don't know how Arthur will reclaim the throne…but maybe, being in his home will shake him awake so he can face reality."

Gaius put his arm around Gwen's shivering shoulders. It was bitterly cold and the wind seemed to howl in misery. "This is a hard time for you, Gwen…"

"It's been a hard time for _all _of us," she said practically. "Let's prepare to leave. Perhaps that way we can leave all the sadness behind and our fortunes may turn for the better."

"Let us consult Arthur first before we make a decision."

Gwen glanced back at Arthur's tent which was so firmly tied down that it seemed to exude the occupier's stubbornness.

"I'll try…but even if he's unresponsive, we leave tomorrow." Her tone was not commanding, but it rang with a gentle sureness.

* * *

Nilrhoem's feet were carrying him of their own will. He only stopped when he realized that he was in Arthur's wing of the castle. He had no idea how he had got there, but supposed that old habits were hard to kill. He should have been in the courtyard, where he had been sent to meet the rest of the members of his legion. He had just been informed in a quick meeting with Morgause that they were to collect food from outlying villages and farms for the growing number of mouths to feed in Camelot.

Morgause had left him in charge of his group and though he blushed to admit it, he liked her public acknowledgement that he was worth _something_. In the back of his mind, he knew that she was temperamental and that her attentiveness was probably just a pretence…yet, he was still flattered.

He turned to leave the corridor of familiar wanderings and guilt seemed to flood him. Lately, he had almost been questioning whether Arthur _would_ be able to offer a better life for his kind than Morgause. Never before had he been allowed such freedom to express his true nature. He could perform magic as often and thoughtlessly as he wanted. There was no Gaius looking over his shoulder, no Uther to execute him and no Arthur to jokingly belittle him.

And he was slowly forgetting that life used to be different. That the overwhelming majority of people in this kingdom did not have magic, did not know what was going on in this new regime and that they were suffering in their fear.

Though these treacherous thoughts were constantly entering his mind, he still meant to follow through with his plan. And he wanted to do it quickly before he succumbed further into complacency in Morgause's utopic land for magicians.

Being back in his old master's hallway made him feel like a villain and he reminded himself that Arthur was likely sitting in some cold forest with Gwen and Gaius…and in a fit of loyalty, he unreasonably wished he was shivering in their company too.

An all too familiar voice caught his attention. "Leave now! Do not touch anything in his chambers. He was going to be a great king…and you just come in here and deface his possessions? You should be ashamed of yourselves. Go! This room will not be made into a guest chamber, or anything else. I forbid it! I…will discuss this with Morgause."

A number of maids exited Arthur's chamber and pushed by Nilrhoem, glancing fearfully at his dark cloak.

He jumped aside, trying to give them room and smiled at them in a non-intimidating manner, but they avoided his eyes. Once they all had left the hallway, he noiselessly made his way to the door of Arthur's chamber, which was left ajar.

He saw her sitting on Arthur's bed with her face downcast. Her richly dressed manner contrasted with the obvious sorrow in the lines of her face. She sat silently, her hands folded in her lap.

He did not know how long he stood there watching her…feeling like an intruder, but unable to look away.

He had seen Morgana in many lights: as the unattainable King's ward, as a fierce warrior and loyal friend, as a defiant, unrelenting advocate for those who captured her pity, and as a helpless woman, fearful of the gifts that had condemned her to turn on her guardian.

He remembered her accusing eyes when she had realized that he had poisoned her…she had died in his arms and he had heard people say that in the moments before death, one could clearly see a person for what they truly were. But in this moment, he still felt like he didn't know her at all…

She had returned from the jaws of death, and in her rebirth, he had wanted to believe that she had forgotten everything as she had initially told everyone…a foolish hope that she had forgotten his betrayal. But when Gaius had informed him that she had been responsible for Uther's death, he had realized once again that she was dangerous…How was it, knowing this, that even now he stood, with his eyes transfixed on her?

This woman was going to be the death of him.

She frustrated him at every step…he would have bet his life on her being thrilled in Morgause's kingdom. Yet, she was sitting there looking so alone and miserable that it angered him. She had no right to be upset – she had caused all of this! Did she think that once Uther was gone, she would go back to her old life with Arthur as King? Did she think Arthur would not care that she caused his father's death? Did she truly believe Morgause would allow Arthur to ascend to the throne without a fight?

A small part of him rejoiced at her desolation...

In spite of everything though, he still wanted to rush into the room and announce loudly what he knew were the only words that would bring her comfort…that Arthur was alive. _That_ weakness in him was what filled him with the most rage… that he had not learnt his lesson – he could _not _trust her, but _wanted_ to desperately.

Having seen enough, he turned to leave, but in the process, his shoulder clumsily hit the doorframe.

Morgana looked up suddenly. "What are you doing here?" she asked hostilely.

Nilrhoem turned to face her. "I was just…passing by, my lady. I am sorry to have disturbed you."

She stood up, hastily wiping the corners of her eyes and glared at him. "You are Nilrhoem, correct? You have not been at court long. Perhaps you should learn some manners. Next time announce yourself!"

"Yes, my lady." Nilrhoem tried to control his anger. "Are you alright? You seem upset…" Without meaning to, genuine concern was creeping into his voice and that made him anxious to leave her presence before he dug himself a deeper hole.

"I am fine," she said curtly. Not knowing why she was explaining herself to a complete stranger, she added after a pause. "I was just remembering an old friend. There is no need to concern yourself or…my sister." She successfully kept the shakiness from her voice.

Without missing a beat, Nilrhoem replied with some kindness. "You can trust me, Morgana. I won't tell anyone."

He departed without another word and she was again left staring at his retreating back.

* * *

Laughter rang out around the fire. The knights were in good spirits, making jokes and enjoying the boar that Sir Gawain had captured earlier.

They were now only a two-day ride away from Camelot and they were grateful for Gwen's effort in persuading Arthur to leave their old camp.

Only Gwen knew that her conversation with Arthur had consisted of precisely two words: "We're leaving," she had stated. She had received a grunt in response and took that as his acquiescence; she went ahead to inform the knights to make ready for the journey. And this time their travel had been far less complicated for the knights were all well enough to ride and they only stopped at nightfall…

They had decided to stop for this night in a well-travelled forest where they found a large clearing.

The closer they got to Camelot, the more concerned Gwen was becoming about what would happen once they actually got there and confronted Morgause.

Lancelot, who was sitting on her left, caught her eye and she leaned closer to discern his quiet voice over the loud conversations. "This boar is delicious," he said kindly, trying to convey that he appreciated her hard work because she had spent the evening preparing the meal.

She smiled at his praise and replied, "You have become quite good at adding the right spices yourself." She turned to Gawain who was sitting on her other side. "Gawain here is the best at identifying the edible herbs. If you weren't knights, you would be very good cooks indeed."

Gawain and Lancelot burst into laughter at her words and the former said, "Don't say that, Gwen! You never know – under Morgause's rule, that's what we might end up doing until Arthur is King."

"Speak of the devil," muttered Lancelot darkly as Arthur appeared out of the shadows from behind Gwen.

She remained seated, not bothering to make eye contact with him because she knew he would not respond favourably.

Arthur's eyes narrowed further upon seeing Lancelot and Gwen's seating arrangement. He had not heard any of their conversation, but had heard enough laughter to know that they, and the rest of the party, were quite happy without him. He rudely stepped between Leon and Caradoc to quickly grab his share of the boar. He had tried to avoid meals entirely for a few days but had realized that starvation wasn't the best course of action – though on second thought, he would rather starve to death than feel like _this_. And truth be told, he didn't even know what _this _sickening, poisonous feeling was that had consumed him since Gaius had told him everything…

The knights fell silent as Arthur bent over to pick up his tin plate that Gwen had prepared for him. Avoiding Gaius' desperate attempts to catch his attention, he stalked off to his tent without so much as a grunt of gratitude.

Gwen sighed in resignation and threw her plate down. Lancelot tried to convey his sympathy, but she turned to a conversation that had resumed between Gawain and his older brother, Gareth.

Gawain was boasting. "I brought down that boar from more than twenty paces away!"

His brother's reply appeared condescending, but held a hint of pride in his younger brother's achievement. "I could have brought it down from fifty! You will do well to remember that you're still the baby here."

Gareth was not lying because Gawain was the youngest amongst them, and indeed still had very much of a childish innocence. His bright blue eyes and curly golden locks gave him the appearance of a young angel. But there was mischief in his face…

"Gareth, you're being unfair. Your brother has proven himself time and time again. He is one of our bravest knights," Gwen said, smiling widely at the young Gawain. She had grown fond of him; in her mind, he was how Arthur used to be before he had the responsibilities of a Prince…but in Gawain thankfully, it was those qualities without the arrogance.

Gawain glowed at her matter-of-fact tone gratefully and Gareth shook his head knowing he was outnumbered.

Gwen nodded around the fire in general appreciation of Arthur's knights. They were a good bunch and had treated her with much regard…but the same could not be said of their leader. She wished he wasn't being such a…such a…_prick_ – for lack of a better term.

Suddenly loud noises that weren't laughter startled them all. War cries resonated from all sides and out of nowhere, men charged into the clearing with swords.

For a second, the knights were frozen but Leon took charge. "BANDITS!" he roared. He drew his sword and lunged at the nearest man, knocking him over.

Lancelot and Gawain shoved Gwen roughly to the side. "Get out of here, Gwen," Lancelot commanded urgently as he unsheathed his sword, trying to fight two bandits as once.

She unwillingly ran from the immediate fighting.

No one had noticed her yet, so she ran to the nearest tent and started to frantically throw possessions around searching for a weapon…she found a blunt sword and decided that it would have to do.

As she was running out of the tent, tripping over her skirts, she was grabbed from behind. The sword was wrenched from her grasp and she yelled in fear. The attacker covered her mouth before she could shout further and twisted her arm behind her as she struggled.

"Look what we have here," he said in a slimy voice. "When we have killed your friends, then you will be our reward." She shuddered at his hot, heavy breaths which stung in her ears. "Actually, why wait…when I could take you now?"

She tried to escape in vain but he laughed menacingly and tightened his grip, painfully pulling her towards the forest…

Arthur, upon hearing Leon's cry, had rushed out of the tent with his sword in hand. He was almost glad to have a reason to fight. Feeling exhilarated, he ran towards the scuffle around the fire. He noted quickly that the knights were more than holding their ground…these bandits had taken on more than they could handle with the Knights of Camelot.

As he ran to join them, he thought he heard a cry for the briefest second. His heart, which had been pounding ferociously in excitement, stopped beating. He looked around the campfire, but not seeing her, he began to panic.

"GUINEVERE!" he yelled, changing directions.

It wasn't hard to find her – she was being dragged into the thicket roughly by a brute. Though her mouth was covered, her eyes widened in relief when she saw him. He thundered forward, his blood boiling in anger. The bandit immediately released Gwen and reached for his own sword.

Arthur swung heavily, but to his utmost shock the bandit easily blocked his clumsy blow, kicked his sword out of his hand and in the same motion, pushed Arthur to the ground.

He lowered the tip of his sword to Arthur's throat and looked back to Gwen who was trembling even more than before. "_This_…is your defender?" the bandit asked in derision.

The attacker raised his sword while Gwen screamed. But before his sword could meet his mark, it met Lancelot's blade. Easily, Lancelot parried with the brute and within a few seconds, he found an opening and drove his blade into the bandit.

The barbaric man fell over clutching his wound and was dead in an instant.

Lancelot held his sword limply at his side, looking down in disbelief at the man he had just defeated. _How was Arthur not able to destroy this less-than-mediocre swordsman?_ Lancelot wondered, appalled at what had just occurred.

Meanwhile, the noises from the battle had ceased…

Gwen, who had been standing paralyzed in shock, shakily rushed to Arthur's side. He was lying on his back, but slowly he raised himself on his elbows. Kneeling beside him, she put her hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright, Arthur?"

Arthur was still blankly staring at Lancelot and the dead bandit at his feet. Upon hearing Gwen's voice, he looked at her and blinked twice…very slowly. She stroked the hair out of his face lovingly and continued to look upon him with concern.

Lancelot finally regained motion in his limbs and approached the pair. "Are you hurt at all, Gwen?" he asked, completely ignoring his fallen commander.

She turned to him and Arthur followed her gaze. "Thank you," she said gratefully. "You saved our lives."

Lancelot looked back towards the centre of the camp. "Looks like our men have driven the bandits out."

"We should check on them," Gwen said as she got to her feet. She appeared quite shaken up, but regained her composure quickly. She turned to Arthur whose face was still impassive. He had yet to say a word.

Lancelot and Guinevere stood side by side; they glanced at each other and then again back at Arthur.

"Can I…help you up, sire?" Lancelot enquired in an unintentionally patronizing manner as he extended his hand.

Arthur abruptly stood up and roughly pushed Lancelot's hand away. He glared at Gwen and spoke to her for the first time in nearly a week. "Why don't _you _and _Lancelot _see to the knights?" he sneered.

He left his sword lying on the ground and stomped to his solitary abode – his tent.

Lancelot looked almost apologetic and offered his hand to Gwen as a comforting friend would. But she was not paying attention…

Her eyes were full of hurt as she stared at Arthur's tent flaps being tied, but after a short while she headed off to rejoin the other knights.

* * *

Nature and time stood still in anticipation of winter's cold frost.

This night, the stars shone brightly, illuminating the still waters of a dark lake. Creatures feared this mystical body of water and none ventured there, for it did not quench the thirst of the living but rather satisfied the yearnings of the dead.

Those of the Old Religion knew it to be Gateway to Avalon…

_Avalon _- the land of eternal life. But did the few that travelled through this conduit find life there, or an afterlife? Was it their destination, or was it a station to take them onwards…or perhaps even bring them back from whence they came…

And so, even the moon hid its face in fear of what _had_ transpired to compel the young warlock to stand waist-deep in the lake of mystery. The clear night sky held its breath in suspense of what _would _transpire…

Merlin shivered violently. He had shed his outer clothes so they would not weigh him down, but was now regretting it with every fibre of his cold being. He started moving his arms through the water, disturbing its calm placidity, trying desperately to see inside. But the water simply reflected the sparkling sky, giving the illusion that it was as shallow as a mirror.

There was no choice – he would have to go in, and he had to get back fast. The rest of his contingent would hopefully not miss him for long. He had left them in the alehouse in the village of Leavesden where they had managed to gather a sufficient quota of food for Morgause. Luckily, the villagers were not a resistant bunch in Leavesden and Merlin was relieved that he did not have to resort to any more force than just politely asking.

Merlin took a deep breath and dived headfirst into the depths of the lake. He swam deeper, kicking his legs powerfully. A few heavy strokes and his hands hit the sandy lakebed. He opened his eyes and saw nothing except blackness. Merlin tried to whisper a spell, but the minute he opened his mouth, water rushed in and he could not even cough properly. Instead, he thought the spell with all his might.

_Léohtian_.

A shining, golden orb appeared in front of him, lighting up the bottom of the lake. There were no fish or other aquatic creatures – only sand and seaweed coated the ground beneath him. And the expanse of lifeless water stretched out in all four directions, as far as his eyes could see.

He tried to swim around a bit more, slowing down time, so he could search the near vicinities thoroughly but soon his lungs were screaming in protest and he was forced to rise to the surface.

Gasping for air, he spluttered and took long, deep breaths. He had travelled much farther into the lake and had to now tread water in order to stay afloat.

Merlin cursed himself for throwing the sword, which the dragon had burnished, into this lake. At the time, it had seemed like a wonderful idea because he didn't think anyone would ever find it here. And now much to his annoyance, he realized that he had turned out to be right.

He swore under his breath. Maybe it was his own foolish fancy, but the minute he had read of the sword in the legend, he knew that Arthur had to wield _this _sword and no other…and so, he would have to retrieve it.

Merlin had been reluctant to return to this lake because the last time he had been here…

"Freya," he whispered sadly to the cold night air.

Immediately, his shoulders relaxed and calmness entered his body. She always had made him feel at peace with himself. Even though their encounter had been brief, to him it had encompassed all the shades of life and love. While he felt his sense of urgency and worry washing away, the water didn't follow suit. Around him, it began to swirl…

Huge ripples were appearing and waves not of his making were crashing around him. It became difficult for Merlin to stay above water. The lake seemed to call him to its depths and finally he relinquished his control, allowing the will of the water to pull him below.

This time, he didn't need a spell to see underwater. A blinding, silver light was shimmering all around him. He looked around in wonder at the moving white shapes within the light itself. He kept turning in the water, trying to focus on one of the silhouettes that seemed to be dancing around him. But at every turn, it eluded him…

He instinctively slowed down time so he would never have to resurface for breath, but the apparitions continued to move around faster than ever. He felt dizzy, turning and turning, for what felt like centuries…

Merlin was spellbound by this ethereal dance of life and death.

Just when he thought his head could spin no more, the dance stopped as quickly as it had begun. But, the shimmering light still remained…

"NO!" Merlin tried to shout. He did not want it to end. He had forgotten himself, his identity, his purpose…and when the dance ended, he did not want to remember.

He swam forward, wanting to grasp the light that seemed real, even though the dance already felt like a dream. His strokes were futile for the water now felt almost solid…immovable.

"Close your eyes, Merlin." It was as though the water particles themselves were speaking to him, but he could recognize that serene voice anywhere. He wanted more than just her voice…but he obeyed and his eyelids fluttered shut, hoping that she would appear in his mind's eye.

Behind his eyelids, there was only light.

"What is it you seek?'

Merlin did not even notice that he was no longer treading water. He was suspended somewhere between the bottom of the lake and the surface. He focussed his mind, replying to her query. "I want to see you…Freya."

Everything that he had done since arriving in Camelot had been for Arthur, for Gaius, for Morgana, for Gwen…for others. But Freya, he wanted for himself. And perhaps his desire was selfish, but he would ask anyway.

Laughter, that sounded to him like the soft tinkling of bells in the wind, echoed around him. "I am the keeper of this lake. You can only see me when I take you from your world."

"Then take me now!" he surrendered, not to her, but to his own fantasy of spending an eternity with her.

"Though Freya would want nothing more, I am more than just her now. Why have you come here before your time? The Lady of the Lake knows that you have come for a different reason." She sounded sad, but resigned to her fate.

He wasn't breathing, but was inhaling her presence through every pore. "I seek the sword that will make Arthur king."

"Excalibur awaits you," the Lady of the Lake replied.

A small hand, colder than the water, grasped his. He wanted to open his eyes, but they wouldn't pry open.

He glided weightlessly, pulled by Freya, through the water that felt like air to him. Her hand felt solid and he tightened his hold on it, afraid that she would slip away.

All of a sudden, she gently guided him to a stop. Control of his limbs slowly returned to him, as did his realization that he was suffocating underwater.

Her hand did not release his - instead Merlin felt his grip returned with the same intensity. To his amazement, he felt the graze of her lips against his own for a fleeting moment…just as her hand left his.

Still with his eyes closed, he wildly groped for her hand. He was at the bottom of the lake now and instead of meeting her soft palm, he only felt the gritty sand…until, he hit cool metal.

Merlin's eyes flew open.

The silver light in the water was just disappearing, but there was enough for him to make out the golden lettering: _Take me up._

The layers of sand that had accumulated on top of the sword fell away as he gripped its hilt and swam upwards.

He burst out of the water, Excalibur gleaming in his hand. He began to make his way back to the bank.

Merlin knew he had only been gone a few minutes, but those few minutes had altered him completely.

This unchanged reality was the true dream, in comparison to the surreal truth that he had experienced in the depths of the lake.

* * *

"There is no more food, Gwen!" Leon's face bore a worried expression. He had just returned from the nearby village of Netherfield, where he had gone with Gareth to request some food, since hunting was near impossible due to the cold. "The village was ransacked yesterday…pillaged by Morgause's men, leaving nothing for those poor farmers. They had come from Camelot under her orders to collect food for the growing population that we hear is arriving from the Continent," he finished his report with a quick incline of his head.

Instinctively, the knights now went to Gwen first instead of Arthur, since he was currently completely incapable of taking any responsibility.

They hadn't had any news from Camelot since Gwen and Gaius joined their party and so this new development was a great shock. Morgause had already localized much more power in Camelot than they had originally hoped…

Gwen was wiping a plate with her own apron absent-mindedly as she listened to Leon. The trio stood by a large oak tree just outside their camp. She did not speak; her heart was heavy for the unfortunate villagers.

"What hope do we have now of overthrowing Morgause?" Gareth belligerently questioned. "We have maybe two dozen knights here, and she has amassed an army of not just soldiers, but magicians! You weren't there, Gwen! We outnumbered Alvarr's army and yet, we couldn't defeat their magic. We only got away with our lives because of a stroke of luck and the single-handed work of a magician we didn't _know _about on our side."

Gwen stopped scrubbing and looked up at Gareth evenly.

Gareth continued in frustration while Leon looked embarrassed at his friend's outburst. "And we haven't moved from here since the bandits attacked!" He glanced at Arthur's tent pointedly.

If they had thought Arthur's mood was bad before, it was nothing compared to how foul his disposition had become. They had tried to pack their belongings several times, and restart their journey, but Arthur had not left his tent and Gwen, for once, gave up on him.

They were all now waiting for some kind of sign that would give them some direction…because returning to Camelot in this state seemed more and more far-fetched by the minute.

"Now we're going to _starve _because we don't even have any food!" Gareth spat angrily.

Gwen put her hands on her hips. She did not raise her voice but spoke assuredly. "That's enough, Gareth. We need to stop thinking only of ourselves. What about those villagers? How will they hope to survive the winter now?"

"I know, but how can we help them when we ourselves are outcasts?" Leon asked quickly before Gareth could retort.

Gareth looked a little ashamed because he knew he had let his stomach do the talking.

"I don't have the answers, Leon," Gwen said humbly. "All I know is that it's wrong to sit here and do nothing, while we still have strength in our bodies, and allow poor villages to be raided."

Leon and Gareth looked at each other and nodded.

"You are still Knights of Camelot. Outcasts or not, do your first duty to this land and protect the innocent." Guinevere's innate nobility once again shone through her words, but this time it had a different flavour. This time she was taking matters into her own hands…and it scared her.

Leon's respectful gaze acknowledged the change in her demeanour. "Yes, my lady," Leon said and he walked off to rally the rest of the knights.

Gareth was left behind and he continued to stare at Gwen with an inscrutable expression. At last, to her surprise, he bowed and followed Leon to the rest of the tents.

* * *

The magicians at the castle entrance shivered in their black cloaks. It was a cold and misty night. They squinted around the courtyard to ensure that there were no stragglers violating Morgause's curfew. But they could see nothing through the thick fog…

Behind the misty veil of his own making, Merlin stood in the centre of the courtyard, a large grey stone at his feet.

Excalibur was suspended in mid- air, under the control of his right hand. His eyes glowed eerily as he whispered, "_Setl mamor beorge...gewrit Arthur Pendragon searu béon earendel __fæðer_." His voice shook with the power of the spell.

He lowered his hand slowly, and Excalibur's blade sank deep into the rock waiting for the one who could claim it.

He turned his back on the sword in the stone and his cloak swished behind him as he strode up the stairs, back into the castle…

One of the magicians was chatting to his companion, but he stopped mid-sentence.

The mist had started to thin and they could make out a shadow in the middle of the courtyard.

Curiously, they rose from their position and walked towards the strange silhouette, holding out magical orbs of light. They closer they came, the more bewildered they became.

In the heart of Morgause's kingdom lay a large, grey stone tablet. Embedded in the stone was a glittering blade, its handle gleaming at the top, inviting the beholder to pull it forth and claim the greatest sword ever forged.

Excalibur.

* * *

Gwen knew something was wrong. She rushed forward to meet the knights, who walked slowly into the clearing.

She had wanted to go and fight with them, but the truth was that though she knew everything there was to know about swords, she wasn't a very skilled swordswoman; in battle, she had not wanted the knights to be concerned for her safety since she would likely become more of a hindrance than a help. The knights had begun their small battle against Morgause two days ago…and when they returned to the camp at the end of the day, their glances had told Gwen that she had played no less of a part in their victory…

They now gathered at the fire as a group, Leon at the very front. For the past two days, each time they had returned from fighting the magicians, he had looked her in the eye frankly and triumphantly.

But this time, his head was bent. His voice broke with anguish. "We managed to drive off Morgause's men from Greenwich, but it came at a terrible price…"

Gwen stood rooted to the spot, her face pale and drawn. Gaius appeared at Gwen's side, breathing heavily. "Show me. I can help!" Gaius cried.

The group parted, revealing Gareth in their midst. He was holding a figure to his chest and sobbing silently. "There is nothing you can do!"

Gwen took one look at the young man in Gareth's arms and ran.

Ripping the tent flaps, she burst into Arthur's tent, finding him lying on the cot with one arm behind his head. He was staring up at the roof of the tent blankly and was jolted from his reverie when he saw her stricken face.

With two quick strides, she was at his side.

A resounding slap rang out in the tent.

Arthur clutched his reddening face and got to his feet in anger. It was his first interaction with anyone since the bandits had come. "What the _hell_, Guinevere?"

She raised her shaking hand in fury, preparing to dole out another, but he grabbed her wrist tightly.

"Have you lost your mind?" he demanded. "How dare you treat me like this? Do you not know…"

She wrenched her wrist from his grip. "I know only this, Arthur Pendragon. That you are no Prince of Camelot…you are a _coward_!"

He looked at her defiantly for a few moments, but suddenly he sat down dejected. "You're right. I am worthless now…"

"Don't you pity yourself, you prat!" Gwen grabbed Arthur by the elbow and dragged him to his feet. There was a wildness in her eyes. "Get _up_! Go and face Gareth…and tell him that while his brother died fighting for _your _subjects, _you_ lay here…" Gwen's voice faded as she began to cry violently. All the bitterness that had built up in the last weeks seemed to pour out of her. "What happened to you, Arthur? I know you had a shock. And I've tried to be understanding and give you space…but you've given me nothing!"

"Gawain is dead…" he surmised numbly.

Arthur saw her shaking form, her hair falling out of her bun and her dirty, torn dress. He felt guilt welling up inside him for her struggles, but he felt as if he could not do anything to relieve them.

She continued as though he hadn't spoken at all. "I've tried to take on more than I was ever comfortable handling…I've been a servant, a healer, a cook, a friend and I _tried _to give them guidance in your absence…and Gawain is _dead _because I told your men to fight for the helpless villages, even though they were missing their commander! It's _my _fault," she sobbed.

Gwen covered her face with her hands while Arthur stood like a stone, watching her and not knowing what to do.

Finally, she controlled herself and wiped her tears away. Her eyes seemed to burn through his pretence of apathy. "I have nothing else to say. Your people are starting to suffer under Morgause's rule. If you do not care enough to even try to fight her for the good of Camelot…then I don't know you at all." She was looking at him with fury, daring him to contradict her.

"Even _I_ don't know who I am…" Arthur said quietly. "And what use would I be on the battlefield? I cannot even fight anymore…" His ears turned red as he remembered the feeling of being knocked to the ground, helpless.

"I don't feel sorry for you anymore. I tried to reach out to you…help you deal with the blow that Gaius delivered. But now, Arthur, now what you are showing is just selfish cowardice." Her tone was hard without a hint of pity at his sad state. "If you keep like this, the people who have placed their trust in you will leave you…"

He mistook her words for a threat, and became defensive. "Then leave me!" Arthur folded his arms and looked down upon her, trying to appear indifferent though on the inside, his gut was being wrenched apart. "You loved what you thought was a noble man, a prince…but I am not that man. Go find another because I can't offer you what you seek. Perhaps Lancelot…"

Gwen raised her eyebrows dangerously at his implication, though her voice remained level. "_Lancelot_? This just shows you have understood _nothing _of what I'm trying to tell you! A man has died and you are worried about _Lancelot_? You know I…" Gwen couldn't even bring herself to reassure his insecurities at the moment. "I want you to be the man you were born to be…I don't care if you become a King or a pauper, but only that you are true to your ideals that you once had."

"You want me to fight for the kingdom? How can I…?" Arthur's voice was breaking with emotion. He was finally voicing the thoughts that had been plaguing him for the last while. "I cannot even pick up a sword, Gwen. You saw how that lowly bandit defeated me! I have some twenty odd men…how do you expect me to fight against magicians? I couldn't defeat Alvarr's magicians before, what makes you think I can fight Morgause's magicians now…"

She shook her head in disbelief at his loss of confidence. "You lost _one _fight, you fool. Pick up a sword and practice. You are a warrior - there is nothing wrong with your fighting skills, it's all in your head. And as for the magic, Merlin is on our side. He will help you defeat the magicians…"

"I don't even know where the hell _Merlin _is. He hasn't even tried to talk to me." Something akin to hurt was creeping into Arthur's voice. "He's probably ecstatic that Morgause is Queen…" he added bitterly.

"How could you even _think _that about Merlin? Do you not even know your best friend? He is in Camelot, trying to work on your behalf and you…you _disgust _me, Arthur!"

"Good! Because I am not fit to be King." He lay back down on his cot and resumed his initial position, staring blankly at the ceiling.

The one conclusion Arthur had come to, from all the time he spent mulling his thoughts over in the tent, was that Morgause was a stronger ruler on all fronts. And she would _never_ yield to her pathetic half-brother…

Gwen looked at her once-hero and couldn't believe how low he had fallen. She turned on her heel and stomped to the mouth of the tent. Her back stiffened when she discerned Arthur's low voice over the pounding of her heart.

"And what's more…I don't even want to be King, Guinevere…"…

… At the same moment, miles away a young warlock paced in his modest room in Camelot, glancing out of the window every few moments, almost unreasonably hoping for the instant arrival of the once and future King.

* * *

The once noblemen of Camelot entered the Great Hall in a single file, looking timidly upon their intimidating Queen.

She sat in all her glory, surrounded by stone-faced magicians on both sides. Morgause looked at the nobles with open disdain as they shuffled along to the front of the hall.

"I was not expecting this meeting," she said contemptuously. "When I offered you quotas of _my _riches, it was with the understanding that you would lose your seals of nobility. You have no right to come here!"

Morgause had intentionally been accommodating of the non-magic folk for the first month of her rule – but now, it was no longer necessary. She had a strong enough base of magicians that there was no way _anyone _could dethrone her. She wanted to give them a taste of their own medicine…they needed to pay for sitting back and participating in Uther's cruel regime.

She was sure that Morgana would not have approved of her treatment of the non-magic folk, so her absence at court was convenient in a way. Morgana had voluntarily gone to visit her father's grave, and to once again try to communicate with Mordred; Morgause had simply encouraged her to take the daylong trip.

The bravest nobleman stepped forward. "My queen, please – we would not have troubled you otherwise… but the lower town has been in extreme unrest. They wish to know the reason for the appearance of the sword in the stone, in the castle courtyard. Some think it to be a bad omen…"

Morgause's face darkened at the mention of the object that had appeared four days ago. "Silence!" she commanded. "I have seen some of your pitiful folk attempting to pull out the sword…as if it can be done without magic!" She snorted derisively. But the fact remained that she had tried three times, each in the dead of the night, but to no avail. And when she had even tried to remove the blasted stone itself, sword and all, it had not budged one bit.

She gripped the armrests of the throne tightly. "This object will be dealt with shortly. Now leave, before you waste more of my time!"

The nobles glanced around fearfully before stepping back. An old man was left standing in the front of the crowd. He hobbled forward boldly. "My queen, as you may not know, I am Geoffrey, the court librarian and genealogist," Geoffrey said.

"What are you doing here, old man," Morgause asked. "I have not commissioned your pay!"

"No, no, my queen. I am sure you will want to hear what I have to say - I believe I can shed light on the matter of the sword." At this point, Geoffrey not-so-subtly tried to catch the eye of one of Morgause's magicians, who immediately bent his head and rubbed the side of his bearded face inconspicuously.

Morgause was curious enough to hear the old codger speak. She gestured impatiently for him to continue.

The whole court fell silent, waiting to hear from Geoffrey, because all had been fascinated by the arrival of the mysterious object that seemed to have fallen from the heavens.

"There is a legend," Geoffrey began to recount his well-rehearsed lie that he formulated with Merlin's help. It was a good thing that the court was full of people, because it was part of their plan that those observers would help to spread the tale and cast doubt on Morgause's sovereignty. "It has long been forgotten, but it is the myth that is as old as the forces that shaped this land. It follows thus: The one who is able to pull the sword of legend from this stone is the true leader of Albion! Anybody else is simply an imitator, doomed to be destroyed, for nature itself will bind its will with the rightful heir!"

Morgause stood abruptly as if a fire had been lit beneath her.

She held her right hand out towards the old man and her eyes turned golden. He clutched his heart and fell face forward to the ground.

One of the magicians rushed towards the librarian who lay unmoving on the ground.

"Leave him!" Morgause's voice was amplified due to the stunned silence of the crowd. She addressed the magician who had stopped in his tracks. "He is dead, Nilrhoem! And deservedly so…" She raised her voice. "Anyone who dares repeat what was spoken by this traitor will be arrested. Anyone who tries to pull the sword from the stone henceforth will be put to death."

She walked forward to the edge of the raised platform. "_Anyone _who threatens my reign will be silenced swiftly and painfully. _I _am the Queen of Camelot, and you _will_ obey me."

All the magicians knelt one by one and the nobles followed suit.

Merlin, under his disguise of Nilrhoem, was one of the many kneeling at Morgause's feet. He defiantly raised his head an inch…he was appalled at Morgause's cold-blooded murder of Geoffrey, but the rational part of his mind was telling him that she could have done _nothing_ better to validate their fabricated story.

Merlin thought victoriously, _You think you are solidifying your reign, Morgause…but you are only hacking at the base of the tree on which you stand._


	14. Chapter 13

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

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A/N: So very sorry that this chapter took this long - we can't even lie and say we were making it perfect (it was brilliant in the first draft itself...haha). School has been keeping us busy, as is the belief that our story is actually how season 3 should have unfolded. We'd love to know if you too agree (hint: review!) and whether you too spend hours deliberating over Morgana suddenly becoming pure evil. Not that we do that. Spend hours, that is...(more like days :P).

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Many of you expressed your desire to have Arthur shape up - so we hope this chapter **pleases** **you**...or as Morgause would say, leave us a review and we'll "prepare you a feast you shall never forget!". By feast, we mean feast of words of course. What were YOU thinking?

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* * *

Chapter 13**

"It makes no difference how deeply seated may be the trouble, how hopeless the outlook how muddled the tangle, how great the mistake. A sufficient realization of love will dissolve it all."

~ Emmet Fox

"Never mind searching for who you are. Search for the person you aspire to be."

~ Robert Brault

* * *

Mary sifted through the flour, her sleeves rolled up and her hair tied back with a cloth. She had been waiting to bring this up for days and finally in the secrecy of her hut, she gathered her courage.

Her friend, Cara, had come in to borrow sugar and was searching through her pantry.

Mary cleared her throat. "Cara, has your husband Jonathan heard any news from the city?"

Cara turned to face Mary. "Strange that you ask! He did actually…" She lowered her voice. "But he cautioned me to not speak of these matters to anyone…"

They heard some noises outside and both looked up in fear. Morgause's men had been coming and going from their village of Clopton as they pleased, looting and harassing the villagers.

Mary spoke again when she noticed that it was only Simon the milkman walking by the hut. "Are we talking about the same thing…?"

Both paused, looked at each other and said at the same time. "The sword in the stone -" …

… "– who put it there? And who do you think it's for?" the farmer muttered to his son as he fiercely pulled out the weeds growing among his crops.

Marvin lounged under a tree as he replied, "If it is for anybody, maybe _I_ should journey to Camelot and try to pull it out!"

His father stomped over and smacked the back of Marvin's head. "You aren't even fit to harvest these crops! And besides there are -" …

… "– guards everywhere! I passed by the courtyard and there are _three_ stationed around the stone," Doris whispered to her new lover over their few scraps of dinner.

The lower town of Camelot was now like a prison. They were watched at every step and sometimes Doris didn't even feel safe in her own home.

"Do you know…sometimes I have thought of poisoning the witch's food," she exclaimed bravely.

Doris worked in the palace kitchens, and she was one of the fortunate few that had managed to retain her job. However, she failed to mention to her companion how her knees quaked every time she was in Morgause's presence; nonetheless, her lover seemed impressed at her words.

And so, she kept going, reaching across the table and stroking Rowan's beard. "We are treated like dirt now! We weren't treated _this _badly even when Uther was King."

"I know," he said soothingly. "But what can we do? All we can do is hope that _our _children see a better future," he said suggestively. Seeing that his hint was lost upon Doris, he continued. "And in the meantime, at least not _all _the magicians are bad. I have heard of some who give out extra rations to the elderly and young."

Rowan put down his spoon and reached for Doris' other hand. "I don't want to be treated specially. But I just want us all to be treated as human beings – magic or no magic."

* * *

Early in the morning, the frost glistened on the grass beneath Merlin's feet in the Forest of Shirlett. This forest separated the city from the Plains of Camlann and it was barely a half-hour ride from Camelot.

Merlin fidgeted around agitatedly, trying to keep himself warm as he concentrated on the dragon.

_Kilgharrah._

There was silence around Merlin but leagues away, his voice boomed inside the ancient dragon's head.

The reply came back faster than Merlin expected.

_What do you ask of me, young Dragonlord? _

_What the_ hell_ is taking Arthur so long? _Merlin directed every bit of his restlessness into his question. _I have given him more than enough time! _

The dragon could sense Merlin's frustration. _Patience, patience young warlock. The future king needs to conquer his own insecurities and forge a place in people's hearts before ascending the throne. It is too early yet…_

_It has been two weeks since I put the sword in the stone! Geoffrey has died because of my single-mindedness and the commoners are all but trampled to dust under Morgause's heel. _Even as he silently communicated these words to the dragon, the tension was visible in Merlin's face.

He had had difficulty escaping from the watchful eyes in Camelot just to find a moment with the dragon and now, Kilgharrah was telling him that Arthur needed _more_ time. Merlin hated to think of all those who would suffer for every day that Arthur delayed.

_Arthur has suffered a tremendous shock – it has changed his whole perspective. You have had years to know and accept your destiny…Arthur needs time to do the same. _The dragon was barely one mile from where the Prince's camp stood and he knew it would not be long before Arthur was ready…

The dragon's voice calmed Merlin's restlessness slightly…for now. Even these few minutes communicating with Kilgharrah, who was close to Arthur, made Merlin feel like the earth beneath him was solid again. However, he knew that when he returned to Camelot he would feel just as isolated as before. Merlin had been unable to communicate with the dragon in the past few weeks because he hadn't found an opportunity to leave the city boundaries. So far, fortunately, Morgause had given no indication of attempting to seek out Arthur herself. Still, as a precautionary measure, he had kept the barriers up around the city of Camelot – this time, however, to protect Arthur from Morgause's malicious eyes. The thought of returning to Camelot where once again he would be friendless and alone saddened the young warlock.

But, a possibility struck him and even before he communicated this thought to the Great Dragon, Merlin felt his spirits rise. _Maybe I have no business being in Camelot anymore. I should journey at once to talk to Arthur. Perhaps I can…_

_No, _Kilgharrah interrupted quickly. _You must do no such thing. _The dragon now spoke imperiously. _Let things take their course. Arthur should not be dragged to his destiny by you or anyone else…it is imperative that he should want to meet his fate knowing he is worthy of it. _

Merlin sighed with resignation and shrugged his shoulders. _I understand what you are trying to say. I want more than anything that Arthur should realize his significance himself. I only hope it doesn't take much longer because I am afraid he won't have any subjects left when he finally _is_ ready…_

Kilgharrah understood Merlin's urgency. He had continued to watch Arthur struggle in the past months, waiting for the Prince to rise to the occasion on his own. Kilgharrah's foresight had told him that Arthur would not sit idly by for long now, but Merlin's words reminded the powerful dragon that he may have to intervene.

Although dragging would certainly not be appropriate, perhaps it was time for a small push in the right direction…

* * *

Morgana sat alone in her usual spot, to the right of the ruler's seat, absently picking at her full plate. She had now become used to having her meals alone because Morgause was more than often occupied with state affairs.

To Morgana's astonishment, however, the doors to the dining hall slowly swung open.

Morgause briskly strode into the hall in her full regal splendor and nodded to the guards to close the door. She walked in the direction of her seat, but seeing that Morgana made no move to greet her, she paused at her sister's side and placing her hand on Morgana's shoulder, she kissed her forehead.

"Is everything alright, Morgana?" Morgause asked out of habit.

Morgana glanced at her sister rather coldly. Her voice was sullen as she replied, "I haven't seen you for days, Morgause."

Morgause went to her seat and sat down, smoothing her dress. One of the servant girls stumbled forward to pour wine for the queen. Morgause picked up her fork responding, "I've been busy, Morgana," she said indulgingly. "But I will try to have meals with you more often."

"It's not about the meals, sister," Morgana retorted, dropping her fork and now openly glaring at her sister. Words that she had been thinking poured out of her mouth in a torrent. "I feel like a stranger in my own home! You haven't involved me in the kingdom's affairs at _all_…you keep sending me on these useless excursions with this magician or that, forcing _me_ to show them around the land when any country peasant could do it!"

Morgana took a deep breath to resume her tirade but her sister interrupted her. "Oh Morgana…I had no idea you felt this way. I thought you enjoyed leaving the castle and seeing the countryside. The magicians I talked to certainly found your company agreeable." The Queen gave a small smirk and began to cut her meat.

Morgana looked at her sister in disbelief. "Morgause! How can you make light of this? I'm not just a puppet that you can use to boost the morale of your magicians and keep busy with work of no consequence. I have been raised at court - I have been educated in this castle, I _know _this kingdom…Why do you not care to seek my opinion about anything? It's almost as if…as if I am of no value here. I might as well be a farmer in an outlying village and nobody would notice the difference!"

Morgause suppressed a grin imagining Morgana trying to plough the fields in her fine dress. She rolled at her eyes at her sister's passionate outburst, but remained silent sensing that her younger sister had more to say.

"And why not at least tell me about the burdens you carry…I see it has been taking its toll on you because you don't have time for proper meals and you remain shut up in the council chambers all day…all I want do to is _help_!" Morgana's cheeks were turning pink in frustration, but she resolutely kept going. "You said over the past year that we would pass every hurdle together, but I feel like you've left me and gone somewhere…and I do not know how to follow!"

Tears glistened in Morgana's eyes. She knew she was being overly dramatic but she didn't know how else to express her feelings, her isolation.

However, for once, her sister did not understand what Morgana's problem was. "What do you want me to do? You have everything you wished for. When I first met you, your biggest concern was Uther and fear for your life because of your magic. Now he is gone and you are free to express your truest nature as you please. You have a comfortable bed to sleep in, food on the table, servants to do your bidding and you have _me _to love you…" She laughed out loud dismissively, shaking her head at her sister's childish behaviour and added, "I think perhaps you should eat some more so that your mind can think clearly."

Morgana's eyes burned with outrage at Morgause's neglectful words. She raised her voice. "Morgause, I know you are not being honest with me. Even though you have suffocated me with bodyguards everywhere I go – I have heard the whispers."

At this statement, the seasoned witch looked up sharply. _Just how much had Morgana heard? _Morgause wondered, for she had gone to great lengths to keep Morgana out of state business. She knew that her sister still held on to great ideals – ideals of magic and non-magical folks thriving equally…in a way that could never be - not after how those without magic had tortured and pillaged followers of the Old Religion during the time of the Great Purge. Morgause did not want Morgana to be at odds with her and though she wished that her younger sister would one day see her viewpoint, she knew for now that it was best to keep her blissfully ignorant.

Morgana's next words worried the new Queen even further. "I know of farmers, who, having no crop for their families, come to petition for aid in Camelot…and yet, I have seen them go away empty-handed. Did you even listen to their pleas? I have heard that disease is rampant in the lower town because of poor water supply. Have you sent healers there, Morgause? Have you truly heard the voices crying out for help in this land? Or, have you done nothing but sit on your throne…and surround yourself with your posse!"

Morgause dismissed the servants, who were holding full platters in their shaking hands, with a furious wave. "That is enough, Morgana," she spat. Her anger subsided though, when she saw Morgana's shocked expression, which reminded her that Morgana did not know; she had not been old enough to remember the atrocities that these very commoners witnessed – the massacre of magicians that they just stood by and watched.

In a more controlled tone, she struck back, "How dare you think I'm doing nothing of importance? Can't you see how in this short time I have returned magic to its full glory? Did you think it would be possible without the cooperation of the common folk? Yes, perhaps they are suffering a little now. But we have suffered for over twenty years – don't tell me you have forgotten that. Don't you think that a little pain on their part is not too big a price to pay for the future of magic?" Her voice was low and cautionary - she wanted Morgana to abandon her high horse and open her eyes.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing great can be achieved without some loss. I know that some don't have enough food but think of all the magicians here that need to be fed…and I, as their Queen, _will_ ensure they are well cared for," Morgause said firmly, crossing her arms.

Morgana was appalled that her sister had actually been an active participant in the misfortunate of the commoners...and what was more, Morgause's unconcerned manner disturbed her even more. Morgana was slowly beginning to suspect that there were more things that Morgause was hiding from her and that her daily trips to various townships were just as much for the Queen's convenience as for Morgana's amusement.

"But you are also the Queen of those from whom you are taking," Morgana appealed. "The harsher you are, the more people will believe in stories such as that of the sword in the stone. And Geoffrey's mysterious death has done nothing to squash the rumours…"

Morgana still hadn't heard that Morgause's cold-blooded hands had been the cause of Geoffrey's death.

"I do not want to hear anything about that damned sword!" Morgana's words had struck a chord and her sister's patience had run its course. She sat up straighter. "I am first and foremost the Queen of magic and I cannot see why you do not appreciate the kingdom that you helped to create. You speak of suffering as though you have known it but the truth is that I have seen much more than you." In her mind's eye, Morgause could still see the fires that consumed the Isle of the Blessed. But Morgana's innocent and unmarred face contrasted sharply with the devastating image in her head. "You are nothing more than a child, Morgana. You don't know what it takes to be Queen."

Morgana gripped the table tightly for the words that Morgause had just spoken reminded her of the dead king who lay outside the city. For the first time, it dawned on her that Morgause's demeanor marked her as the daughter of Uther Pendragon. She instinctively pushed her chair away from the table.

Morgause continued relentlessly. "I was able to take care of you in this past year but now I no longer have the time. And you complain that I am overprotective of you…you still haven't proven to me that you can look after yourself at all. Every step you take forward requires people behind you to make sure you don't fall!" Morgana needed to be taught a lesson and this time, Morgause wasn't backing down. "Don't pretend you've lead anything but a sheltered life before I came along and it is no different now. I don't care _what_ you do as long as you respect me and do not question me in front of my people. You feel for those starving people? Then give _your_ food to them! But don't come to me later complaining that you're hungry."

Morgana sat stunned. Morgause was chastising her as if she was a toddler. She stood up abruptly and threw her napkin on the table. "Don't think I won't!" she rebelliously countered.

She stomped towards the door, tripping slightly over her train, feeling more and more like a young child.

"This time…just don't get yourself poisoned by someone you trust blindly. You will do well to remember that I am your _only_ well-wisher," Morgause called, her tone almost casual as Morgana slammed the door shut behind her.

Morgana paused outside the door realizing that she really had nowhere else to turn. Morgause had spoken the truth on some level…and as much as she disagreed with her sister on principle, she was obliged to her for not only saving her life, but showing her who she really was.

How had it happened that the once beloved King's ward now only had _one_ well-wisher…?

* * *

Dusk was creeping over Camelot as the Lady Morgana stood at the stained glass window overlooking the courtyard.

Snowflakes fell lightly from the heavens covering the cobblestones with a delicate, white blanket.

Pulling their black luxurious fur coats closer, magicians bustled around the courtyard eager to get inside. However much they pretended not see it, they were forced to acknowledge the large obstruction in the middle of the courtyard as they made their way around it. The sword in the stone negated their very presence with every atom of its existence.

Normally during winter, the fires lit by the guards would flicker out, but today, the courtyard was warmed by floating orbs of light. The scene was picturesque - like something out of a book that Gorlois had read to Morgana as a child.

Morgana stood silently for a few minutes, trying to ignore the pangs she felt in her stomach, which kept reminding her of her uneaten lunch. On a matter of principle she refused to go to dinner and face her sister with whom she had quarreled in the afternoon.

All of a sudden, there was a disturbance she spotted from her vantage point. She threw open the window and the ice cold air blasted her face as she leaned out to hear the cause of the commotion.

Three guards dragged a man in chains against his will – it was a man dressed very much like the rest of the sorcerers. Behind them followed another guard marching a woman and young child, also in chains, but they came without resistance. The child seemed frail and was crying pitifully as his mother tried to hush him, but her face betrayed her own fear. Morgana could tell from their tattered attire and thin faces that mother and child were from the lower town.

Then, Morgana did something that she hadn't done in a while. She delved into another's mind. Probing into the young woman's past, she searched for the reason of their arrest. She saw visions of the chained magician laughing and handing the young boy some sweets…but when she tried to See their future – there was nothing, just blackness and death. Morgana gave a shudder…

The wanderers in the courtyard had stopped in their tracks and watched the captured magician struggle and shout with mild interest, as if this scene was not an uncommon one.

"If you're not one of us…then you can snivel like the rest of them," leered a guard to the prisoner.

The man in chains finally stopped resisting and declared loudly so Morgana had no trouble hearing his words. "Is it wrong to feed hungry mouths? If it is…then I accept _Queen _Morgause's punishment. But spare them…" Though his voice sounded confident, his eyes gave him away, slipping a look of love and protectiveness to the woman and her sobbing child.

Morgana slammed the window shut, not wanting to hear anymore, but she watched as the guards ignored the man's pleas and dragged him along with the peasants into the door leading to the dungeons.

Within moments, the courtyard was back to how it had been except now, in Morgana's eyes, the fairy lights held a sinister glow.

She turned her head away in sadness of what she had witnessed. Morgana jumped upon seeing a shadow behind her, and realized that she had not been alone.

Only a few paces from her stood Nilrhoem, the magician who always seemed to catch her off guard. He made a move as if to walk onwards, but the sorrow in her eyes reflected in his and held him there.

Nilrhoem was a highly regarded magician now in Morgause's eyes and Morgana was well aware of this as she turned back to the window and spoke bitterly, "You must be so proud of your men who tear apart families and deny the poor from the plenty we have…"

His voice was barely audible. "It was your sister's men…not mine."

Morgana faced the young man sharply but a few seconds later, she replied in a soft tone. "I wish that were not true, but…" Sighing, she returned her gaze blankly to the courtyard.

Nilrhoem strode forward till he was level with her and he, too, followed her gaze out the window.

Still staring ahead, she whispered, "I didn't want to believe that this was happening. I thought things would be better once _he _was gone."

Merlin knew instinctively that she was referring to Uther, but when Nilrhoem answered to Morgana, he tried to appear nonchalant. "Things _are_ better in some ways…magic is no longer a crime. People can practice without fear of persecution – that is no small feat."

"Yet, things are worse. Arthur is dead…and my dearest friend has disappeared. I know my sister means well…" Morgana corrected herself, "…I mean, at least to the magicians, she means well. But the others are suffering. You just saw what I saw and I cannot bear it. I don't even fit into this climate. You are all magicians and I am a Seer. My power is useless against your mental barriers…not that I would wish to pry," she clarified. "I just feel useless – I didn't fit in before as Uther's ward and I belong even less as the Queen's sister."

Nilrhoem remained quiet, surprised at her forthcoming and Morgana continued, not knowing what possessed her. "And how can I openly disregard her wishes? Morgause has loved me, taught me magic, given me life again…" It felt as though she was confiding in an old friend. She was comforted because something within her told her that she could trust Nilrhoem, that he wasn't like the rest of the magicians.

Her words reverberated in Merlin's head: "_...given me life again…"_ He had relived the guilt of poisoning her a thousand times over, but each time, it struck him as painfully as the first. However, he knew that he had cut the bonds of their friendship long before he had given her the hemlock…he had helped her discover that she had magic from the Druids and then, he had abandoned her to face the unknown, new world alone. No wonder she had turned blindly to Morgause…

But here, once again, he was drinking from the same cup. He was rebuilding their ties, but this time as an impostor...and he wanted to end this before he violated her trust again.

Seeing that she was waiting for his response, Nilrhoem spoke abruptly, "It's not in my place to say anything…"

He tried to edge away stiffly, but she looked at him, eyes full and lips trembling with vulnerability. "I cannot command you to tell me what you think, but you don't seem like the rest of them. That poor man…he tried to help and look what happened. I feel so helpless, I can't do _anything_!"

"You can always do something," Nilrhoem muttered, now looking at her with an inscrutable expression.

"It's not that easy. It will hurt me to betray her openly…also, there are others I have dragged into this. Mordred…he is the one who sent you here. He does not know what he has helped create and I don't want to leave him in this. He's still so young…"

_Mordred_. There was someone Merlin hadn't thought of in a while. The numerous warnings of Kilgharrah began to flash in his mind.

_The ancient prophecies speak of an alliance between Mordred and Morgana, united in evil_.

Was she still the enemy, even though she spoke as a friend? And as for his half-brother… Merlin hadn't seen him, but the way the other magicians spoke of him riled him a little. Within such a short period of time, Mordred had gained a tremendous reputation and Merlin was stuck, still playing the role of a servant – now maybe a middling magician at best.

"You must worry about yourself first. _Sir _Mordred can take care of himself…" Nilrhoem said with distaste that went undetected by Morgana.

They stood in silence for some time but the seriousness of the moment was broken by a loud rumble from Morgana's stomach.

Nilrhoem couldn't help himself and he let out a low chuckle.

Morgana stated rather defensively, "I told Morgause I would not eat…and so, I refuse to go to the dining hall."

"Starving yourself is not going to feed the commoners, Morgana." He used her first name without thinking - for the first time since Morgause's reign began, he felt less alone within the stone walls of Camelot.

This was because Merlin _did_ appreciate her sentiments perfectly. He himself smuggled three-quarters of his meals to the lower town everyday…but, he also knew that he too had to eat, if only to live another day to provide another portion of his meal to the poor.

She reluctantly smiled at him. "I know _that_…I think I was a little hasty in my outburst."

"I will bring you some food to your chambers, my lady," Nilrhoem said, his voice warm and kind.

Merlin had all but forgotten his resolve to dissociate from her and he was now grinning broadly, allowing himself to be drawn in by her familiarity. He gave a small nod and turned toward the kitchens, neglecting his other duties, but she grabbed his sleeve, holding him back.

"I _will_ help them in whatever way I can. These people - all of them - are my people. And when I think of it like that, though it is hard, I don't feel so alone here. Do you understand?"

Nilrhoem took his free hand and put it on hers. "Better than anyone."

This moment, his presence, his words, his warmth – they all felt like she had been here before. Like she had unknowingly lost something in a previous life and was discovering it again while wondering how she had ever lived without it.

* * *

The slope of the tent was becoming annoyingly familiar. Arthur Pendragon had never felt so lethargic. The Prince who once used to bully his men in training at the crack of dawn was currently lying flat on his back in the middle of the day, tossing from side to side restlessly.

He groaned in misery. How he had managed to spend so _much _time in this confined space was a mystery to him…he had always been so active and energetic. And now he was reduced to a lazy slob, who did nothing but eat, sleep and eat more…

Arthur raised himself on his elbows and looked down at his abdomen. He was definitely no longer fighting fit…he almost laughed, imagining the expression on Merlin's face and then scowled immediately. How could he _laugh_ when his life was presently so filled with horrors - his father's murder by Morgana, and that too, in a scheme planned by his half-sister who now occupied the throne of Camelot! He scolded himself for feeling less mournful about the whole situation.

The heaviness in his chest from these painful memories had been lightening over the past weeks, but he had fought to keep them and the accompanying sentiments alive in his head. He had no good reason as to why he continued to torment himself…truly, the only heaviness that now remained was the fact that he hadn't seen Gwen since Gawain's death and that his men had not uttered a single word to him.

Suddenly, he rose uneasily to his feet. Perhaps he was growing soft in his tent yearning for the presence of others - a walk in the cold would harden his resolve and remind him why it was best for everyone that he remained in his solitude.

He crawled clumsily under the back of the tent so as to avoid the men he knew would be sitting around the fire at the front end. Once outside, Arthur ducked his head and swiftly ran into the thicket.

Without turning back, he continued to run through the trees, occasionally jumping over fallen logs and protruding branches. His boots met the snow with a crunch at every step and the chilly air made his eyes water. He only managed to run a short distance into the forest before he began to pant with exertion. He paused and stooped over, hands on his legs, breathing heavily. His breath formed clouds of fog in front of him and he began to shiver…he had not remembered to bring his cloak.

Out of the blue, the air whooshed above him. He looked up but there was nothing there except the overarching branches of the trees. Frowning, he walked onwards slowly, making his way through the forest until he came upon a clearing…

"AHHHHHH!" he screamed at the sight that met his eyes...

He turned and bolted, only to run into the beast's gleaming eyes again at the other end of the clearing. Panicking, he stumbled backwards, reaching for his sword, which wasn't there since he had not retrieved it after the night with the bandits.

His eyes were fixated on the mythical creature, and not watching where he was going, he tripped over a large branch and fell with a thud on his backside.

The dragon loomed over him and the creature's face almost seemed to be contorted into a smile that to Arthur appeared to be the look of a predator that had cornered its' prey.

Except Kilgharrah was only expressing mild interest and amusement at the mere mortal prince…

Years of experience had taught the Great Dragon that this was one conversation that he would have to begin. "At least, you still have the will to fight for your life, Arthur Pendragon."

Upon hearing the dragon's voice, Arthur shook his head as though he was hearing things. "You can talk…." he squeaked in a most undignified manner.

"I can do more than talk. I am the Great Dragon that Uther Pendragon imprisoned for twenty years beneath Camelot. I have seen many eons come and go, but it is _your _era I have been anticipating..."

The dragon studied the miniscule being shivering in a mixture of cold and fright, still on his back.

Upon hearing Uther's name, his son clambered to his feet and began to speak spontaneously. "How dare you speak of my father! And I remember _you_…you destroyed my city, my people…and I will not give you the satisfaction of killing me as I lie helpless."

Arthur tried to straighten his stiff back and stand proudly, which required quite a lot of effort, but the dragon only continued to stare at him.

After a lengthy and uncomfortable pause during which the dragon made no move to harm him, Arthur announced, "Stop me if you wish, but I will have nothing to do with you." He turned on his heel and stomped away.

Before he had taken two steps, he knew that he was not walking alone. The ground trembled behind him as the dragon lumbered through the forest, following his charge.

Arthur began to feel as if he was in a very strange dream…

Why, in this dream, was this dragon following his every step? To throw the dragon off his scent, he walked around a tree hastily and crawled through a thorny hedge of bushes, but when he emerged, dirty and scratched up on the other side, the dragon was already there.

The dragon yawned loudly, exposing his fangs and before Arthur could move, he was suddenly in the air, held in one of Kilgharrah's claws. He struggled futilely against the iron grip until he was lowered down firmly onto a log in a sitting position. The dragon opened his jaws wide and Arthur shrunk back, but the flames that came out of the dragon's mouth only lit up a few logs at Arthur's feet.

The fire crackled merrily and in an instant, warmth seeped into Arthur's bones. He looked up with less hostility at the ancient being and the dragon grasped the opportunity to speak again. "The last time we met, I was consumed by revenge… I hope that in the weeks to come, I will be able to amend those wrongs…" Kilgharrah bowed his head, rather abashed.

"I dealt you a mortal wound…" Arthur said disbelievingly. He was talking a dragon – _a dragon_!

The dragon snorted, steam coming from his nostrils. "You did no such thing. As brave as you are, it was Merlin who banished me."

"_Merlin _banished you?" Arthur blurted before he remembered that Merlin had magic. So this was just another of his victories that Merlin had been responsible for…but this time he found that it didn't bother him. Maybe it was because he had fallen as low as a man could possibly fall and his ego no longer craved for superiority in battle…

The dragon settled comfortably, tucking his wings to each side. "Yes, Merlin has the power of the Dragonlords. He _is _a Dragonlord like his father before him…"

"Do you mean to say that man we searched for to help us defeat you…" Arthur paused and looked at the dragon, feeling awkward, but the Kilgharrah only bared his teeth innocently…so he continued. "…he was Merlin's _father_?" He stared up at the dragon's amber eyes questioningly, forgetting his initial fear of the great creature. Arthur appeared more willing to converse with this beast than he had with a human being as of late.

"Yes, Balinor was my master and Merlin inherited his powers after his father's death…"

Arthur felt guilt and sadness for another wash over him for the first time in a long while. He remembered that troubled time and his words to Merlin: _No man is worth your tears_. And he knew after the many tears that he had shed for his father, who was perhaps less deserving than many men, that he had been wrong. He now wished he had been able to offer Merlin the comfort and support that Merlin had always given him.

"…Balinor brought me to Camelot on Uther's orders and I was chained there for twenty long years. Merlin was drawn to my cave when he arrived at Camelot for we are both bound by the Old Religion, brothers in magic. He came often to seek my help…any time you were in danger. The more I saw Merlin, the more I felt trapped in my cave…and my advice to him became increasingly manipulative…until I finally succeeded in convincing him to free me."

Arthur gasped and was too shocked to speak upon hearing this revelation.

The dragon looked more and more ashamed as he resumed his story. "I don't know what happened to my powers of reasoning over those years but when I escaped, my only thought was of _revenge_…revenge on Uther and Camelot. And thoughtlessly, I murdered innocents and even attacked _you_…the one soul our kind had been waiting for…Merlin could have killed me, but he spared my life and in doing so, he reminded me of the nobility that I had lost. And that is why, young Pendragon, I stand before you…charged to protect you with my life until you return to Camelot where your servant – nay – your friend is awaiting your arrival."

After a lengthy silence in which Arthur stared steadily at his feet, feeling the warmth of the magical fire, he spoke with his voice full of emotion. "When we parted, I told him I did not know him. But the truth is, I _did _know him…his spirit, his good-heartedness, his loyalty…all of those things have not changed with my knowing of his magic."

Arthur did not tell the dragon but he knew that what _had_ actually changed was the fact that Merlin's magic had revealed Arthur's _own _insecurities. And looking back, he concluded that it didn't matter whether it was him or Merlin who had saved Camelot all those times…all that mattered was that he had the most trustworthy friend on his side.

Kilgharrah waited patiently for Arthur to come out of his reverie.

The wind continued to whistle fiercely, and the clouds threatened to drop snow upon them at any moment. But the crackling fire warmed the air between the unusual pair.

"I can't believe after what I said to him he still remains in Camelot on my behalf…while I cower here," Arthur said bitterly, not meeting Kilgharrah's eyes.

"You're right," Kilgharrah responded in a deep rumbling tone. "You _are_ cowering…everyone has tried to wake you up. I have watched Gaius, your men, Guinevere all attempt to reach out to you, to remind you of your duty. Your destiny is not to lie here; your destiny is to unite this land and its peoples."

"That is what Guinevere has been telling me. I am not afraid for myself, but I am afraid of letting my people down." Arthur raised his head slowly to meet the dragon's eyes again. "What if I am not worthy?"

"All your life has been leading to this moment…the moment when you cease to be a Prince and become a King. A Prince can still push the responsibility onto another's shoulders, but a King cannot. He must face his fears head-on. The courage of his people becomes his strength. The hope of his people acts like his shield and the love of his people forges his sword. A King lives and dies with his people." Kilgharrah measured each word carefully, knowing that this conversation would change the pages that would be written afterwards.

The Great Dragon was not telling Arthur anything he didn't know before. But to be told by a creature of such stature that had seen many ages come and go…something that had been stirring inside of Arthur began to roar.

He stood up agitatedly. "I am _sick_ of who I have become. What can I do? Will I even be able to fight anymore like I used to?"

"Arthur, you are a formidable fighter and you will always be. But being a leader is not just about fighting. Violence alone, without reason, breeds fear…and that is what Morgause has done to Camelot. Commoners are trembling in her grasp while magic used for dark means is thriving. Each day you do nothing, her grip tightens, suffocating more and more." The dragon also rose on his hind legs and towered over Arthur. "Morgause is wrong in her ways…for her heart is driven only by hatred for those who destroyed her kin."

"I had convinced myself that Morgause would be better suited to rule than me." Arthur's voice became stronger, his words clearly audible against the howling wind. "I cannot make a claim that I will be the better ruler, but I do know that I cannot stand by any longer and ignore the cries of my subjects and my friends." He stood straighter, feeling ever more rejuvenated by the second. For once, he wasn't overwhelmed by what the dragon had told him. Though he was still unsure of exactly _what_ he was going to do, he knew he was going to do _something _and that gave him a sense of pride and purpose. He wasn't the Arthur Pendragon of old and neither was he foreign in his new skin…he was transformed from within and at last, the once and future King looked upon the dragon, waiting for words that he knew would be his inspiration for the years to come.

Kilgharrah inwardly acknowledged his triumph and sensed that Merlin would be very pleased with this outcome. The dragon had found and given Arthur guidance at the most opportune moment and now, it was time to strike while the iron was hot.

"Arthur Pendragon, it has been foretold in the prophecies of the Old Religion that you will go down in history as the greatest King of all, and that Merlin will come to be regarded as the most extraordinary sorcerer that ever lived…" The dragon stretched his wings and looked Arthur squarely in the eye – their fates were now inextricably linked. "Years will pass, the walls of Camelot will crumble and fall to ruin…pages of history will turn into myth. Yet, Camelot will live on forever, as the legendary land of King Arthur. Though one day people may wonder whether you truly existed in the flesh, they will _never_ question your legacy."


	15. Chapter 14

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

___A/N: Another chapter complete! This chapter caused us to cry in frustration at some points, but by the end we were laughing at our own jokes...which you may not think are very funny, but you have to excuse us because we finished the last part of this chapter past midnight (and generally jokes are exponentially funnier past the witching hour). Anyway, I doubt any of you remember...but originally we mentioned that we had planned for 30 chapters in total...which means that we are officially half-way done! So...in recognition of that small achievement, we danced around in a semi-celebratory manner and high-fived in the middle of a lecture on lymphomas (yeah, we actually do study science - you would never know though by our terrible description of battle wounds in this story). _

___As you can probably tell, we take our role as Merlin-ers quite seriously. In fact, for Halloween we even dressed up as two sides of the same coin and received a lot of confused stares (since nobody from our neck of the woods really knows what Merlin is about...but never fear, we are slowly converting those we call 'friends'). That was a totally unrelated story that has nothing to do with anything that will happen in this chapter. Back to more relevant things...  
_

_This chapter is actually one of the only, if not the only, light-hearted(ish) chapter. We realized that we actually prefer writing death, destruction and angst (DDA for short)...which is kind of disturbing for our social life, but good for the story. So we hope you really enjoy it and laugh a little...and if happy trippy isn't your cup of tea...stay tuned for DDA. _

_Seriously though...thank you all SO much for continuing to read. I know we say this ALL the time, but it totally makes our day knowing that somewhere out there some people are reading this story. Since for both of us, this of our first long-term commitment towards writing, it's been a work in progress...trying to figure out how we can improve our writing etc, etc. Anyway, your feedback is always appreciated and we do love getting your reviews (like 'em as much as chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream on a warm summer day). Now, the question is would you want to deprive us of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream? *sad face* _

* * *

**Chapter 14**

"Lavendar blue and Rosemary green,

When I am king you shall be queen."

~ Songs for the Nursery

"I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace…

…I love thee freely, as men might strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith…

…I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life!"

~ Elizabeth Barret Browning

* * *

Arthur hesitated before stepping into the knights' view. He could see them through the bare tree branches, sharpening their swords and talking amongst themselves.

He wouldn't blame them if they shunned him completely, in response to his abominable behaviour. But knowing that the dragon was not far behind him, he took a deep breath, clenched his fists and moved into the open…

…Guinevere sensed something different in the air. All of a sudden, the tension in the small camp was paramount. She dropped the bundle of dirty linen she was collecting to wash at the nearby village and darted behind the nearest tent when she spotted the unkempt mop of fair hair.

She hadn't seen him in weeks and was infuriated that he still had the audacity to stand in front of his men after all that he had failed to do. She wanted to avoid all contact with him…_nothing_ she had said after Gawain's death had made any difference and now, she had run out excuses for his behaviour. Any further interaction with _him _would just upset her more…and yet, she peered around the tent with a tug of curiosity…

…The knights were more than curious at Arthur's sudden reappearance…they were staring at him with their mouths agape; Arthur was usually accustomed to open-mouthed looks of admiration, but these were looks of surprise mingled with open hostility.

To the knights, Arthur had become unrecognizable: his personality had completely changed since Gaius' arrival and now, they saw that his appearance had too. Had Arthur looked at his reflection, he would have had a fright. His beard was shaggy and untidy, his hair uncombed and wild, and his clothes were rumpled and marked with numerous food stains. He wasn't even wearing a cloak and it was the middle of winter!

Unfortunately for Arthur, his appearance wasn't the reason for the anger on the knight's faces. He had much bigger hurdles to overcome with his men.

And the knights did not seem to want to help Arthur's situation one bit. Gareth coughed mockingly and went as far as to spit on the ground before returning to polishing his sword. Caradoc, Lancelot and Tor had previously been talking around the fire, but they now were regarding Arthur with accusatory gazes. Even Leon suppressed his natural inclination to lick Arthur's boots and was tempted to completely turn his back on his former idol.

If Arthur had been hesitant before, he was now positively shaking in his too-thin-for-winter boots. And it wasn't because of the cold weather...

He looked around for the one face that would give him some courage, but she was nowhere to be seen. He thought of her as he squared his shoulders and set his jaw.

Taking a few more steps forward, he cleared his throat breaking the long silence. "Knights of Camelot," he began formally.

This was without a doubt going to be the hardest speech he would ever have to give.

Seeing that the knights did not respond, Arthur tried again. This time, his voice broke as he said, "My friends…"

The knights' eyes flickered to his face, surprised at the emotion in Arthur's voice, but some men were contradicting his words with outraged expressions.

At least he now had their attention. "I know I have no right to call you that…because I have not been true to the name of friendship. You all are still here in spite of everything…while I left you…abandoned you because of my own fears and torment."

Now that he had begun, the words came to him easily because he spoke from heart. "I am deeply and truly sorry. I cannot even begin to tell you how much."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gaius and the remaining knights, who had not initially been at the fire, assemble around the central campsite. He was relieved that they had heard his voice and had come to hear what he had to say because he wanted to apologize to each and every one of his men. But still…there was no sign of Gwen…

A few icy expressions seemed to be thawing and Gaius went as far as to look outwardly encouraging.

Arthur resumed, his voice growing stronger. "There is no excuse for my appalling behaviour. I can only ask for your understanding. My life was turned upside down…and I became a coward, unable to face you – my closest companions – and unable to face myself. I was selfish and lost in my own misery…"

The knights were leaning forward, their expressions varying from scrutiny to rapture. "I thought I didn't deserve the title of Prince and the truth is that I feel no differently now. If there is even _one_ reason I can call myself the Prince of Camelot, it is because of _your_ unwavering loyalty, not to me, but to your kingdom. Your remaining here through these harsh weeks has inspired me and has reminded me that I was never just the son of a king…I was a knight of Camelot. And Camelot is a kingdom defined by more than my father or me. It is a kingdom of many, knit together by its people…"

Arthur noted gratefully that a hint of a smile was now visible on Leon's face. Feeling more inspired by the minute, Arthur continued. "I have realized that I am the son of a _land_ where men and women share the same hopes, where commoners and nobles dream the same dreams and where magical and non-magical feel the same love."

Snowflakes began to fall lightly, creating a fresh white covering beneath their feet, but none of the knights made a move to draw in their cloaks. The audience was still intently listening...

Arthur felt more in his element with each passing word. "The laws of this land are formed by the bonds of the heart…and not by the dictation of a King…or a Queen. I cannot change what my father did, nor hate him for his actions. But I know that he was wrong in many ways because instead of uniting, he divided. And perhaps that is one of the reasons why we, as citizens of Camelot, are now suffering. I am no longer going to stand idly by…I want to free the kingdom from the oppression it faces."

Gaius was now positively beaming at Arthur's latest assertion.

Arthur's eyes swept around the group as he explained his intent. "I do this with no ambition for myself; believe me when I say that my only mission is to serve my people..."

Thinking of those unfairly trampled under Morgause's reign, he was at a loss of what more to say. Once again, he realized the enormity of the path he was about to pursue…and he knew that he could not do it without those who sat before him. He looked behind him, at the dragon's legs hidden amongst the trees, not knowing how to ask the creature for guidance on how to continue.

Somehow, however, Kilgharrah received his silent message and Arthur heard a loud rustle behind him. Unsure of how the knights would react to this new revelation, Arthur remained silent giving Kilgharrah a chance to raise his majestic head through the branches into the clearing.

All the men unanimously gasped and Gwen, behind the tent, clutched her heart in fear. Kilgharrah surveyed the small gathering, but did not speak, even though the knights were reaching for their swords.

Arthur was forced to say something to stop the panic. "Wait! This is the Great Dragon that some of you remember." That statement did nothing to dissipate the knight's fearful looks one bit.

"He will not harm us," he added quickly. "As a matter of fact, he was the one who helped me come to my senses…he has opened my eyes. And he is a friend of…Merlin's."

Arthur had guessed correctly that the mere mention of Merlin's name would settle the knights' misgivings because all of them still trusted Merlin implicitly. A few men had already stowed away their weapons. Their initial shock of seeing this beast was wearing off…after all they had seen in the past months, this was not _that _had to swallow and to some, it was a relief to have a dragon on their side.

When Kilgharrah began to speak after a lengthy pause, they all looked at the Great Dragon with awe. "This is the beginning of what will become the famed Round Table. Your miraculous deeds will define this era." Though no one had any idea what he was talking about, each man imbibed the dragon's words into their hearts.

The dragon had glimpsed the future and he knew that from now on, he had to remain at Arthur's side to guide him until the end.

Kilgharrah deliberately inclined his head to Arthur. "It is time."

Arthur nodded. He then looked at each one of his knights in turn. Slowly, he knelt on one knee and bowed his head as he spoke. "I have had the honour of presiding over many of your knighting ceremonies. And as you know, being a knight is not just about fighting." He generously borrowed from the dragon's words to him. "It is about being true to your ideals. Allow me to start again…from the beginning. To earn my knighthood once more by learning from you."

Stunned, the men gaped at their liege who was kneeling before them. One by one, the knights slowly rose to their feet. As they approached him, each face held a different emotion, but they were all united in their respect for their Prince.

When Arthur finally raised his head, Lancelot was above him. Uncertainly, Lancelot held out his hand. Arthur took it gratefully and Lancelot pulled him up and clapped him on his back. The others were all standing around, hesitant to speak, but their mere presence made Arthur feel humbled.

The silence was broken by Leon, who could keep quiet no longer. "Do you think we should make ready for Camelot?"

"No, Leon," Arthur said with certainty. "First we must finish the good work you all have started. It would not be right to leave the people in the poor villages that need us here and now."

He thought about the sacrifices that his men had made for his subjects and turned to Gareth, who was standing stiffly on one side. "Gareth…to you I owe a special apology. Gawain was dear to all of us…he was the bravest and most loved. I will miss him…but I promise that he has not given his life in vain."

Arthur put his hand on Gareth's forearm, trying to convey just how much Gawain would be missed. But before he could squeeze Gareth's arm comfortingly, the older knight turned his face away and shook Arthur's hand off.

Slightly hurt but Gareth's actions, Arthur caught Gaius' eye and Gaius shrugged his shoulders as if to say, 'All in good time'. Knowing the physician was right, Arthur did not attempt to approach Gareth again.

Instead, he tried to peer over the shoulders of the tall knights, but they had surrounded him in a circle and he could not see past them.

The question he had been itching to ask burst from his lips. "Where's Guinevere?"

Suddenly, Leon, who just moments ago had been on friendly terms with Arthur, crossed his arms and frowned. "What do you want with her?" he asked very protectively.

Judging by the men's suddenly suspicious expressions, it dawned on Arthur that the knights had had adopted her as one of their own.

Gaius tapped Leon pointedly and Leon looked a little embarrassed. "I mean, she usually visits the village of Ingersoll daily…" Leon looked at the position of the sun in the sky. "But she won't leave till later so she is probably here somewhere…"

Directly in front of Arthur, the knights slowly began to move aside, making way for an advancing figure from the back. As Guinevere approached, the men moved back reluctantly to give the couple some privacy.

But they did not disperse very far – almost as if they wanted to be in earshot in case Gwen happened to call for help. The dragon looked on the scene with interest, but because his head was so above the ground, nobody looked at him anymore and unnoticed, his breath warmed the area.

Guinevere paused, a few paces away from Arthur. She had heard his every word and though her heart was calling out to him, she did not want to appear like she would give in that easily.

With as much dignity as she could muster with her tangled hair, stained and tattered clothes, she stood, head held regally high. The snow fell even more thickly on her head, which to Arthur looked like beautiful, white flowers that were embedded in her curls.

Arthur just continued to stare at her as if he had never truly seen her before. In every stain, he could see the work she had put in to make them all food. In every rip of her dress, he saw the hours she had spent mending the knights' armour. In her tired eyes, he saw the sleepless nights she had watched over the injured.

He was so full of love for her that he could feel tears prickling in his eyes. She only blinked when she saw him well up with emotion, but with every passing moment she clutched her dirty apron tighter, trying to prevent her own tears from falling.

The silence was full of anticipation…

In the time that passed, neither spoke. He wordlessly posed a question, and the slight softening of her eyes told them both her answer.

Arthur closed the distance between them. Taking her calloused palms in his, for the second time that day, he knelt, this time both his knees touching the cold snow.

Before Arthur could open his mouth, Gaius suddenly clued in to the signs. "But sire, what are you doing? At least wait until we get back to Camelot and find a way to dethrone Morgause. This should be done properly…in the Great Hall. You must wait until your coronation," Gaius protested, stepping forward.

Arthur turned to Gaius and gritting his teeth, out of the corner of his mouth, he replied. "_Gaius_, you're ruining the moment." He shook his head and laughed shakily at Gaius' priorities, before returning his gaze to Guinevere. "Besides, I cannot hope to even _be_ King without her at my side," he said through tears that were now rolling down his face.

"Will you be my wife and guide me on this path, Guinevere?"

Gwen's heart was aching to join him on the cold snow…but over the past weeks, he had completely broken her faith in him. Nevertheless, she did believe every word he had just spoken to his men...

Would it be weak for her to relent so easily to him? Her face plainly betrayed her true desire.

Though he was looking up at her beseechingly, through his tears, she could see a tiny hint of roguishness in his eyes that told her he had _seen_ her look of unmistakable adoration and he already knew her decision …and now, all of this was just to make her admit her wishes.

That rattled her. She made her voice emotionless as she responded. "You know, you are a prat."

"I know," he said solemnly, trying to stifle his smile that just wouldn't wipe off his face.

"And you hurt my feelings…again and again…"

His smile faded as quickly as it had come. Perhaps he had misread her face. "I know," he repeated.

"You made me cry myself to sleep every night," she whispered so the knights would not hear, attempting to be cold towards him.

"I know." Arthur was still on his knees, which were numb, and the cold was spreading through his body…but it was her words that all but crushed him.

"I _tried _to help you…and you pushed me away." Gwen's voice was now thick with emotion.

"I _know_," he emphasized, holding her hand tight. He tried to open his mouth to apologize to her, but she cut him off swiftly by placing her hand over his mouth.

"And you couldn't have picked a better day," she said sarcastically, dropping to her knees in front of him and moving her hand to cover his own. "I look like _hell_," she added.

"I know," Arthur said with mock seriousness.

Gwen burst out laughing, unable to keep up the pretense any longer. Tears of happiness poured down her face as if a gate had been thrown open. "Where on earth am I going to get a wedding dress?" she sobbed.

Arthur looked at her, wondering whether anyone in the world could love someone as much as he loved Guinevere in this moment. He swept her into his arms and they both held onto each other tightly.

Somewhere in the back of their minds, they registered the knights' cheers.

He kissed her hair and whispered softly in her ear. "I'm sorry."

Her hands stroked his hair lovingly.

"I know," she said tenderly.

Guinevere's life would never be the same again...

* * *

Beatrice finished plaiting Morgause's hair, hands trembling as always, and tied it with a ribbon. Morgause dismissed her maid with a curt nod and folded back the covers on her four-poster bed.

She climbed in, tired after a long day of arguing over the peace treaty with King Olaf. Morgause had forced him to recant the laws forbidding magic in his kingdom by threatening to unleash her magical army on his lands…

Settling back among the rich pillows, she congratulated herself on her continuing brilliance. Soon there would be no doubt in anyone's mind as to who was the most powerful enchantress and ruler on the Isle…and beyond.

Minutes crawled by and still her mind raced from thought to thought. She stared up at the ornate painting above her bed, her eyes weary with fatigue, but unable to close. Tossing from one side to the other, she tried to clear her mind. Absently, without even realizing it, she began to hum a lullaby that she half-remembered from her childhood. It wasn't Nimueh's voice she associated with the sweet melody…instead it was Viviane's - her true mother.

Nimueh had been dear to her, but never as a mother. There may have been traces of motherhood in Nimueh, but Morgause had not experienced it. They _had_ grown close after fleeing to the Continent, but without truly understanding one another.

Morgause had always been drawn to power and control…and Nimueh had fanned the fire of her daughter's ambition with her hatred of Uther and his clan. Together they had plotted their revenge on him, except Nimueh had not been there to see the final results…

She had lost her mother so suddenly; Nimueh had left Morgause on the Continent years after the Great Purge, sensing that Uther was slowly losing his grip. The vengeful sorceress had sent word to Morgause a few times over the year that followed, only saying that attempt after attempt to destroy Camelot had not worked…and then…nothing. No news from Nimueh for nearly six months...

Morgause had then made the long journey to the Isle of the Blessed, to search for any trace of her mother. She found her old home, now completely abandoned and destroyed…yet, she still felt the same pull to the sacred relic in the middle of the island. Morgause placed her hand on the ancient tablet, which had once joined the sisters of the Old Religion. When she connected immediately to her mother's spirit, which was no longer present in the outer world, she knew at once that Nimueh had passed on.

In the stone, she also felt the combined spirits of her ancestors and became single-minded in her quest for vengeance…

Revenge…it had tasted so sweet when she stood over Uther's dead body.

Yet again, Morgause wished Nimueh had witnessed Uther's pitiful death…but to this day, she questioned whether Nimueh would _truly _have rejoiced at the death of the tyrant who tore apart her life. If Morgause had one regret, it was that that she had never been able to understand the demons that tormented her mother…they had always come in between their relationship as mother and daughter…

Though Morgause's mind had not quieted, she whispered a calming spell and found herself drifting into a sleepless dream…

_Morgause looked down at her hands, which were not her own…but her mother's. She watched the scene unfold, seeing through her mother's eyes and thinking her mother's thoughts. _

_Under the guise of Cara, Nimueh stood in the banquet hall greatly anticipating the servant brat drinking from the poisoned chalice. He'd soon be out of her way and Uther's kingdom would fall into war and despair…_

_Nimueh knew she only had a few moments left in this servant's disguise and she wanted to take a last look at the Camelot she was going to destroy…she inwardly laughed at their blind foolishness – that she could fool them with a simple spell and none of them, not even her old friend, Gaius, recognized her. _

_Her eyes flickered from face to face in the room…some familiar, some unfamiliar. But regardless, they were all going to die. Die like her family had in those flames…_

_But then her breath hitched…she saw her daughter at Uther's side and wished in a moment of weakness that she could take her daughter away…protect her from harm. __Immediately, however,__ she remembered her promise to Gorlois, the one man for whom her respect had not diminished. She had heard from Bayard's other servants that Morgana was the King's ward, but it wasn't until this moment that she realized that it must mean that Gorlois was dead. She had been so consumed by hate in the past twenty years that when, for an instant, a trace of sorrow crossed her mind, it felt foreign in her thoughts. _

_She _would_ honour her promise to __Gorlois__ and though tempted, she would not go near Morgana. Yet, she couldn't help herself from wondering whether Morgana had magic, whether she carried any of her mother's gifts…However, upon looking at the beautiful young woman appearing comfortable and at ease in her rich and fine clothes, Nimueh was filled with anger. Morgana was the _King's _ward…Nimueh's daughter was more _Uther's_ than hers… _

_Uther, she thought venomously as her gaze turned to the man standing by Morgana. How she loathed every hair on his head. While Nimueh was still pristine and unchanged, her once lover had grown old and wrinkled. Nimueh crinkled her nose in distaste…how could she ever have loved him? _

_She __prided herself on __still kn__owing__ him so well…she had been certain that he would force the servant to drink from the goblet. He still placed himself above all others and that would be his undoing... _

_Her eyes then fell on Uther's son… _

_Arthur's face was stiff with tension, his eyes fixed on his servant. And Nimueh wondered if he was different from his father. _

_Her eyes did not wander from Arthur as the servant drank the __wine__. When it became evident that the boy had been poisoned, she watched as Arthur rushed forward to support his fallen servant and she knew that the time to test the young Prince would come. _

_She certainly wouldn't stop his death. But, she _had_ played a role in his birth... and Nimueh knew the laws of magic well enough to understand that she could not kill what she had __helped to __create…_

_As Cara turned and walked away triumphantly, Morgause felt her mother's body storm forward…but Nimueh's mind lingered on the image of Uther Pendragon… _

Repulsed, Morgause's eyes shot open…but the image of her father seemed to hover over her.

It was just a dream, she told herself, taking deep breaths.

Yet somehow it seemed as if she had glimpsed into her mother's true mind…into her mother's weakness.

* * *

The ladies of Ingersoll were gathered in the warm home of Suzanna, the elderly wife of the village leader. The cottage was bursting with loud, excited chatter despite the grim external situation.

"We haven't had a bride in this village in two years…but don't worry dearest Gwen, we know how to throw a wedding!"

"Anastasia, we should start calling Gwen 'your highness!'"

The bride-to-be blushed and corrected Aurora gently. "Marrying Arthur doesn't change that I will always be Gwen to you. After all…you all have done so much for us."

Suzanna patted Gwen's head in a motherly fashion as she passed by with a clean pile of dishes for the wedding supper the following day.

Gwen sewed silently and furiously, her hands weaving through the soft blue fabric. She had come to her newfound friends after Arthur's proposal to share her joyous news, expecting to receive their blessings and return to the camp by nightfall. Instead, they had made her send word to the camp that she would not return until the morning of the wedding, which was tomorrow.

Gwen had had no unreasonable expectations for her wedding, thinking that her ceremony would be performed with her in the same rags that she had been wearing and that her wedding feast would consist of a slightly larger boar that Caradoc hunted down. Ingersoll had been scandalized by her lack of planning and had taken it upon themselves to hold her hostage till preparations were completed.

How she had become so beloved to these simple villagers in such a short time she never knew. When it had become apparent that their current camp would remain unmoved indefinitely, she, along with Leon, had approached Ingersoll for aid. They had explained their delicate situation and with utmost discretion and generosity, the villagers had shared what little they had with Camelot's knights. Fortunately, though this village had come in contact with Morgause's men earlier, they had escaped relatively unscathed due to the benevolence of the magician who led the Queen's contingent.

Daily, Gwen or one of the knights would obtain fresh milk and bread from the village. While the knights tried to help repair the damage Morgause had inflicted on surrounding villages, Gwen kept herself busy with doing whatever she could for these villagers of Ingersoll. She always felt that no matter how much she did, she would never be able to repay their kindness.

Today, she had received lace from Anastasia, satin silk from Suzanna's old wedding dress and beading from Joyce's drapery…most of the fabric was a pale, forget-me-not blue. Joyce had insisted on the colour to symbolize the purity of the bride, and the sanctity of their marriage.

Gwen's nimble fingers were aching, but without taking a break she began to work on the sleeves of the gown. Though many of the women had offered their help, she declined gracefully for if she _was _to have a proper dress after all, she wanted to make it herself.

The chatter intensified around her as the subject turned to her soon-to-be husband, Prince Arthur, who none of them had ever seen. And none, save for one before today, had even had the slightest inkling of Gwen's feelings for Arthur. So, when she had conveyed the good news, they had stared at her in shock since they had had no idea that their Gwen could one day be Queen.

One of the ladies appeared out of nowhere and held a rather ugly purple dress in front of Gwen. "Do you think Prince Arthur would approve of this attire for a royal wedding?"

Gwen took one look at the dress and averted her eyes quickly, trying to hold back her laughter. "I'm sure he'll love it." She caught Elaine's eye and the young girl smiled back wickedly.

Elaine and Guinevere had become fast friends, largely due to their closeness in age. Whenever Elaine and Gwen walked arm-in-arm through the village, all the onlookers would comment on how much they were opposites. Whereas Gwen was dark, Elaine was fair, Gwen shy and Elaine unreserved…Gwen was practical while Elaine had her head in the clouds. Yet, they got along surprisingly well and Elaine was the only villager to often visit the knight's camp. In fact, Gwen had only shared her worries about Arthur with Elaine.

Presently, the pretty young maid was scrubbing the stains out of the tablecloth halfheartedly as she tried to inconspicuously beckon Gwen outside.

Gwen was reluctant to leave her work, but after the tenth glare that Elaine sent her way, she resigned herself and got to her feet.

"Where are you going?" questioned Aurora.

"Just for a breath of fresh air…I'll be right back." Gwen followed Elaine out the back door.

The two girls were shivering, but Elaine excitedly led Gwen to her house, only three doors away. When they had shut the door on the howling wind, Elaine rushed to her room while Gwen lit a nearby candle.

"What is it, Elaine?" she asked, anxiously glancing out the window. Daylight was rapidly fading and Gwen needed to finish her dress soon.

Elaine emerged from her tiny bedroom, gently carrying a package wrapped in thin wool. She put her finger to her lips and unraveled the fabric with exceeding care. The dress she held up for Gwen to see was of a shimmering rose colour. Though of a simple cut, the fabric was no doubt the finest Elaine owned.

Elaine looked at Gwen expectantly. "Don't you think it's beautiful? My father gave it to me for my birthday…I was waiting for a reason to wear it."

Gwen smiled and replied honestly, touching the silk material softly. "It's lovely and I am glad that you think that tomorrow is a special enough occasion for you to wear this."

"Of course it's a special occasion! There will be lots of important people there…" Elaine gave a look of feigned innocence, but her twinkling eyes were full of mischief.

"Alright…who is it, Elaine?" Gwen had seen the brightness that now graced Elaine's face on many a woman's visage. She realized that Elaine had been dying to tell her something for a while.

Taking her time to rewrap the dress, Elaine didn't respond right away.

"_Tell me_," Gwen insisted, giving Elaine's shoulder a shake.

Elaine met Gwen's eyes showing for the first time some…bashfulness. "I don't know what you are talking about, Guinevere."

"If you don't tell me now, I will leave and finish my dress. It's nearly nightfall." Gwen turned, pretending to leave.

"No, no! I must tell you or I will burst!" Elaine exclaimed dramatically. "It's Lancelot!"

Gwen laughed wholeheartedly, slightly surprised at how this news did not irk her one bit. Instead giggling giddily, she grasped Elaine's hands. "Lancelot? I wouldn't have thought…I believed you had an interest in our Sir Leon."

"Don't be silly, Gwen. Ever since I saw Lancelot I can think of no other."

Gwen said nothing but looked upon her starry-eyed friend with amusement.

"He's so handsome…and brave…and noble. How can you not see it, Gwen?" Elaine took Gwen by both shoulders and shook her rather violently.

"Elaine!" Gwen said, scandalized. "I'm getting married tomorrow…to _Arthur_."

"I know, I know…but when you leave what will I do? Without you? Without him? If only he would notice me…"

Gwen lifted Elaine's downcast chin affectionately. "Don't worry. I think your dress will do the trick."

As Gwen and Elaine discussed what she should say to win over Lancelot, Gwen felt a sense of normalcy returning to her life…that even though tomorrow she would be marrying a man who would surely change history, she could gossip about men, clothes and jewellery…

* * *

Arthur picked up the sword. It felt foreign in his grip, but he was determined to overcome his fear. This was the perfect opportunity to get started because he had just received word that Gwen would be detained at the village. Though his wedding was fast approaching, he could not forget that the responsibility of Camelot lay on his shoulders.

The knights had located a suitable area, not far from their own, where the Prince and his betrothed could be married. Some of the men were working on an archway while others journeyed from Ingersoll with the supplies for the ceremonial dinner. Arthur knew it would be the strangest wedding he had ever attended…but he didn't really care as long as Guinevere would be beside him.

Nevertheless before he married Gwen he wanted to prove that he was capable of more than just talk...

The remaining knights stood around him, awaiting his next direction. He beckoned to Sir Robin who immediately drew his sword and entered the makeshift training ground.

They began to spar and Arthur's sword felt heavy in his arms. But with each block, his comfort returned. Initially, Robin's blows were hesitant…but as the knight noticed that Arthur was fighting with full intensity, Robin increased his effort.

Soon, Robin's sword was knocked away and immediately, Arthur twirled his sword shouting, "Tor!"

Sir Tor approached cautiously and this time, it only took three parries for Arthur to disarm his opponent.

"Next," Arthur called without a moment's hesitation, his blood rushing with renewed confidence.

One by one, they fought with their Prince. Before Arthur had begun this exercise, he had explained to his men, red-faced, how helpless he had felt when the bandits attacked…the knights knew that he was not trying to demean them in any way, but only that he wanted to rejoin their ranks.

Finally, all but Lancelot had faced Arthur.

The last knight did not come forward until Arthur called his name.

"Lancelot."

As Arthur turned to his most talented knight, he knew that this was the true test.

Lancelot nimbly evaded Arthur's charge and met his sword blow for blow. Though Arthur was certainly not yet at his best, he was able to keep up with Lancelot…which was saying something. Arthur's arms were getting heavier with each move and though his body was screaming in protest, he refused to yield.

Back and forth, in a circle, they danced. Just when Arthur thought he could not move another inch, he noticed an opening and weaving his sword in, he forced Lancelot's sword aside and kicked it out of the way. The force of the impact knocked Lancelot to the ground.

Panting heavily, Lancelot looked up at the face of his benefactor.

He was pleased to see that Arthur had recovered so completely...

Yet, another part of him was angry…that only a few words had won back Gwen easily when Arthur had hurt her so deeply. Lancelot had sat by these many weeks, pained by Gwen's heartbreak because he had let the woman he loved go in the hope that Arthur would make her happy…and he hadn't.

Arthur had defeated him in every way and Lancelot had no one to blame but himself. He had lost Gwen and now he had no right to her. Most of all, it had stung that during those weeks when Arthur had all but left her, it had seemed that she would rather be miserable loving Arthur than happily love another.

The loud noise of Arthur throwing down his sword next to him shook Lancelot. Arthur collapsed on his shield next to Lancelot. The exhausted Prince pulled Lancelot to a sitting position.

"I want to thank you for everything you have done," Arthur said sincerely. In this moment, he realized how foolish his jealousy of Lancelot had been. He was going to marry Gwen tomorrow and everything else seemed insignificant.

Lancelot smiled and nodded. "It is my honour, my lord."

He had not forgotten that Arthur allowed him to fight without a title and Arthur would never forget Lancelot's unquestionable fealty to Camelot. Though Lancelot and Arthur could never have a bond as tight as brothers because of all that had passed between them, they could still be friends.

* * *

_She blinked at the dazzling sunlight, her eyes quickly adjusting to the bright day. Looking around the grassy meadow where she found herself, she saw a stream beside which a young boy was playing. Stepping forward, she caught her reflection in the water. To her astonishment, it was her face…but as a girl of not more than fifteen. _

_She looked ahead to the small, blond boy who was struggling to keep his wooden toy boat afloat. The child couldn't be more than six years old and his tiny face was scrunched in up concentration. _

_Every step she took towards him, she felt a rush of affection she could not explain. Instinctively, she raised her hand, speaking the few magical words that would keep the boat afloat, but still within the boy's reach. _

_As he clapped joyously, she knelt beside him and guided his hand to the boat, pushing it forward so that it rocked its way down the stream. His face alight with happiness, he turned to her. She immediately knew who he was…_

_Grabbing her skirt in his fist, he pulled her face down and kissed her cheek. "I'm so glad you've come, Morgause. I knew you would make it float"_

_When she looked apprehensive, he cuddled closer. "Don't worry…I won't tell Father that you used magic." _

_Though the younger Morgause ruffled her brother's hair, the older Morgause, confined in her younger body__,__ wanted to recoil. But the older woman had no control over the situation…she was merely an observer, trapped…_

_The girl whispered another spell. _

_As Arthur happily watched his boat suddenly change direction and return to him, Morgause voiced a question that had been nagging her. "Arthur, am I bad for using magic?" _

_Tearing his eyes away from the boat, he looked at her wide-eyed. "Of course not! You're my sister. And if you're bad…I'm bad! But because I am good, you are good too." _

_The young girl felt calmed by her brother's innocence and hoped that they would never be separated. _

_After a pause, Morgause laughed and tickled the boy's tummy. "I hope it stays that way for you and me." _

Morgause was jolted awake.

She felt revolted at the sickly sweetness of the dream she had just had.

From childhood, she had never been able to see visions. That was why Morgana's nightmares were a completely alien concept to her. But over the last few weeks, something had been changing...

Whereas previously Morgause could fall asleep the instant her head hit the pillows, these days her mind always seemed uneasy. It sometimes took magic to make her eyes close. Perhaps it was the magic that was making her see strange images?

Morgause knew for certain that this particular vision that had plagued her for so many days was an illusion. Not only had it never happened, she knew it could _never _happen.

Arthur and Morgause were separated now by more than just circumstance...they were different in their characters, upbringing, ideals – and now, they were perhaps even separated by life and death.

Morgause sat up in her bed, frustrated by the implications of her dream.

She _hated_ Arthur for the privileged life that she should have experienced as her birthright. It was true that _now_ she was sitting in the lap of luxury, but from his first breath, Arthur had had everything at his beck and call.

She laughed inwardly, thinking it was ironic how it was _she_ who had risen from devastation to this position…and unlike him, she deserved it. She had not killed him the first time they had met in the hope that he would be the catalyst that brought down Uther and Camelot…and once he witnessed, nay, caused that, he would destroy himself. But he hadn't…instead, much to her anger, he had reconciled with Uther.

But all that was irrelevant now because he was out of her way at last…

Why then, after all this time, did she have her sleep disturbed by this sickening reverie with him in it?

Morgause was not a Seer, but her intuition told her that this had a meaning. Was Arthur alive? And if so, where? Would he come back to claim the throne?

Morgause now would not hesitate to kill her younger half-brother, but she had been so certain that with no wind of him for so many months that he surely _was_ dead…

In her dream, Arthur and she had been on the same side…but in _this _life, though their paths could cross, she had ensured that they would never travel together.

* * *

Arthur and Guinevere were wed at high noon on midwinter's day. Cloaked in scarlet, Arthur stood tall and proud, beaming at his bride, holding her hands in his. Guinevere's eyes were alight with happiness, flowers embedded in her dark hair, and she smiled shyly. The ceremony was performed in a simple manner, consisting only of soft-spoken promises that rang with hope for their future together. As the elderly court physician declared them husband and wife, friends and well-wishers alike knelt at the feet of the man and woman who they hoped would one day become their king and queen.

* * *

Six long tables with rickety legs were lined from end to end for the wedding feast. Every seat was filled – villagers and knights sitting side by side enjoying this rare, peaceful moment in the midst of a chaotic time.

Happy voices rang out and one of the villagers, Aldous, began to play the harp with deft fingers as many finished their supper and rose to their feet to dance. Everyone had grown cold from having supper in the open winter air and they were eager to warm themselves by moving their limbs to Aldous' tunes.

Though there was only a little beer and ale to go around, Gaius seemed to have had plenty enough to be staring sloppily at Suzanna, who steadily avoided his gaze.

Gaius picked himself up to his feet, from next to Sir Kay, to go to the forest to relieve himself. He navigated around the fallen branches and many people until he tripped on a log at the end of the clearing.

But what he thought was a log was actually Kilgharrah's claw. Gaius smiled up at the dragon sheepishly, not thinking clearly, and Kilgharrah gave him a cold glare before moving away reluctantly, allowing Gaius to pass. In the midst of his drunken stupor, Gaius knew he had not been forgiven by the Great Dragon for his actions, or lack thereof, during the time of the Great Purge…

Yet another member of Arthur's party had been drinking a little too much this night...

Sir Lancelot, as they all now called him, moodily sat at the end of one of the tables, one hand under chin. In truth, Lancelot wanted to remind everyone who referred to him as 'Sir' that he had never actually been re-knighted by Arthur after Uther had stripped him of his knighthood.

Taking another swig, he noted how he was completely ignored by everyone in their joy for the couple. Lancelot was not _unhappy _for Arthur and Gwen, but was he expected to rejoice when the woman he had loved for so long was now married?

As he watched Gwen pull Arthur to his feet and drag him to join the circle of people dancing, he realized that he _should_ be rejoicing for her. Not because of anything to do with him…he had made the choice to step away from her. But the happiness on her face today was worth it. This was what he had always wanted for her…

It was time he let go…

Ignoring the strange looks around him, he rested his forehead on the table, staring at his feet. Guinevere was without a doubt his first love…but that did not mean that there would not be a second. He gave a deep sigh and felt some of the tightness in his chest loosen.

After a few moments, he lifted his head. Somehow, his eyes landed not on Gwen whom his gaze normally sought…but on her dear friend.

Elaine stood slightly apart from the crowd of dancers, who were now forming a new arrangement for the next song. Her face was flushed because she had been dancing continuously, and she had discarded her shawl on a low branch of a tree. At the moment, she was crouched over, preoccupied with searching for any damage to the hem of the new dress.

Her hopeful glances directed at him throughout their brief acquaintance had not gone unnoticed by him, but Lancelot had not tried to reciprocate those feelings…until now.

Elaine examined the last fold of fabric frantically, but reassured that there was no tear, she abruptly straightened, bumping her head on the way up.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, rubbing her fair head. When she realized whose elbow she had had the fortune of grazing her head against, she blushed to an even deeper shade of red.

"My apologies, Elaine," he said, looking at her head with concern. He had never before registered how golden her curls were, and how perfectly they framed her face.

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out. "You know my name? I mean…it's no problem…at all."

Lancelot smiled. "Of course I know your name." Suddenly, Lancelot felt foolish – he didn't know what to say to her, looking into her bright, eager blue eyes. "I mean…it was the name of my…" He swiftly searched his mind for a relative of her name, but then he gave up the pretense and said, "Actually, you're the only Elaine I know. And it's a lovely name."

Her eyes widened at his changed demeanor towards her. She didn't care to know what had caused the change…it was enough that he was looking at her – and not just seeing her – but _really_ looking.

"Everyone knows the name Lancelot. Leon has told me about all the brave things you've done…he said in this one battle…" Elaine began enthusiastically, trying to show him how much she cared about his interests and admired his bravery.

Lancelot listened to her drone on for a while about how he had once defeated five magicians at once…which had _never _happened, but he was too busy listening to her musical voice rise and fall with excitement to correct her.

"And then Leon told me how you -"

Lancelot cut in. "Do you want to dance, Elaine?" Straightforward and to the point.

Forgetting her nerves, she gave an adorable grin. "Thank god! I was starting to forget all the details of Leon's stories…they all sound the same anyway." Realizing that he was still looking at her expectantly waiting for her reply, she added, "I'd love to dance."

Lancelot laughed and held out his arm to her, which she took happily. As the melody began, he twirled her around, feeling that not only was Elaine a lovely name…_she _was lovely…

The sun was rapidly setting but no one showed any signs of leaving the encampment. The dancing and merrymaking had been going on for hours and Arthur was exhausted. Finally, he had coaxed Gwen to sit down for a bit…but still, people kept coming to offer their congratulations and ask him the most absurd questions such as whether he liked an obscure dress pattern or what he thought of the sturdiness of the dining tables, which had apparently been made in Ingersoll nearly forty years ago.

Now it was Suzanna who approached the resting pair - she greeted them with a sweet smile.

Gwen gestured to the motherly woman. "Arthur, this is Suzanna, wife of Kenneth. She has been the one who has arranged for food for us and also planned this whole ceremony today." Gwen rose and gave Suzanna a kiss on the cheek.

Arthur also got to his feet and grasped her hand with both of his. "Thank you…for everything," he said with utmost sincerity.

Suzanna was touched by Arthur's kind manner. She turned over his hand in hers, inclining her head as if to say it was nothing. When she caught sight of Arthur's hand, she exclaimed in surprise. "But you haven't exchanged rings…"

Arthur and Gwen looked at each other.

"It is a custom in these lands, as I'm sure you know, and it brings good fortune," Suzanna explained. "Why, all of the villagers believe in this…"

Arthur knew that rings were always exchanged at weddings at court, but feeling slightly embarrassed, he muttered, "I haven't got _anything _to give her. Forget golden rings…"

While he was speaking, Gwen pulled two flowers from her hair. Knowing that Suzanna believed strongly in traditions and not wanting to disappoint her, she pulled off the flower petals, leaving two stems behind. She pushed one into Arthur's palm and as Suzanna watched, Gwen tied the green stem on Arthur's third finger on his left hand.

He gratefully took her hand and twisted the thin stalk around her finger.

"There!" Gwen said. "Now, we are truly one of you…"

Suzanna unexpectedly hugged them both and wiped her eyes as she hurried away.

Arthur and Gwen sat back down.

"She seems really…normal, unlike some…" Arthur said as Benjamin the farmer approached him for the third time. This time Benjamin asked him when _he _thought the best time to sow crops would be.

After Benjamin was satisfied that Arthur had answered his query in a satisfactory manner, he left, promising that he would call Arthur during harvest season to see how the crops fared.

Arthur turned to Gwen. "Remind me again who all these people are?" Arthur whispered. "And what they're doing at our wedding?"

Gwen swatted his arm. "Arthur…these people helped us so much in the past weeks. They're the family I have here."

Arthur took a sip of water and smiled with raised eyebrows at a woman who had just winked at him. "At least my '_in-laws'_ seem to like me."

"A little too much it would seem!" Gwen retorted as she followed his gaze to the same woman who was now dancing provocatively, shooting glances to Arthur over her shoulder.

"You know…we could be engaged in more _entertaining _activities right now…" Arthur muttered as he looked around to make sure nobody was listening. Arthur was very surprised at his boldness in this matter, but they were _married _now and he figured he better step up…

Gwen pushed away the arm that was snaking around her waist. "Arthur!" she said in an indignant voice.

He removed his arm rather unwillingly and stared at her with pleading eyes, begging her to relent.

It did not take very long.

After barely a few seconds, Gwen stood up. "Let's go," she said through the corner of her mouth.

Arthur jumped to his feet, patting himself on the back for winning this easy conquest. He knocked over the bench in his haste to leave and Gwen put her finger to her lips.

"Shhh…" Gwen hissed. "They won't let us go if they notice."

Arthur nodded understandingly. He took her hand and started walking along the edge of the clearing at a frightfully fast pace, hoping that no one would notice anything but a blur. Gwen was nearly running to keep up with him…but this plan soon hit a snag.

"Arthur! Guinevere!" Gareth's booming voice shattered Arthur's dreams. Gareth was leaning against a tree at the very end of the clearing, apparently singing to himself. "My lady, may I have one dance?" He moved forward eagerly, taking her hand.

Arthur nearly ripped her hand out of his, but Gwen gave him a sharp look and turned to Gareth. Patting his forearm, she said, "Actually…Gareth, I am quite tired. I was heading back and Arthur was kind enough to escort me."

"Arthur can stay here and enjoy the celebrations. I would be honored to walk you back," Gareth said in a helpful voice. Clearly, Gareth too had managed to get his hands on more than his fair share of ale.

Arthur couldn't believe his knight's stupidity. Remembering Gareth's coldness towards him, he wondered whether Gareth was doing this on purpose to torment him.

But Gareth, without warning, pulled Arthur into a bear hug. "Arthur, Gawain always respected you…as do I. Let us put this behind us and fight in Gawain's name…we are all family after all."

Enormously relieved at Gareth's show of affection, Arthur patted Gareth's back gratefully. "We will never forget Gawain's sacrifice…" he gravely said.

Gareth released Arthur and wiped his tears. Turning to Gwen, he repeated his offer, slurring his words slightly. "I can accompany you to the campsite, Gwen. After all…the celebration only seems to be getting started…and Arthur can stay if I - "

As much as Arthur appreciated Gareth's forgiveness, he could not allow Gareth's kindness to thwart his fantasies.

"No, thank you," Arthur curtly responded. "You stay here and enjoy. You deserve it after all your hard work… Good night, Gareth." Before Gareth could say another word, Arthur whisked Gwen away, pulling her into the forest.

It was dark in the woods now and they heard some animal crying into the night. The sudden call scared Gwen a little and she opportunistically snuggled close to Arthur's warm frame. He pulled his cloak around her, rubbing her arm as they made their way back to their campsite.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Gwen asked anxiously.

"It's okay even if we get lost…" Gwen couldn't see Arthur's grin in the darkness. "We'll just have to stay here and I'll spread my cloak on the ground and…"

"Who goes there?" a voice called.

Arthur and Gwen both jumped three feet in the air.

"Gaius," they both shouted. "It's us!"

Gaius had been wandering around for a few hours in the forest, completely and utterly lost. "I've been trying to get back to the…party," he said as he swayed a little. "But now that you're here…Arthur, there is much to talk about."

Arthur was exasperated. "_Really_, Gaius? What is it that cannot possibly wait until tomorrow morning?"

"Well…" Gaius began. "How are we to get the throne back from Morgause?" he asked in a dazed, but serious tone.

For once…Arthur did not care.

He had much more important matters to attend to first. He knew Gwen didn't want to be rude and leave Gaius in the woods, so before she could open her mouth to tell the old physician to return to the camp with them, he said, "Sorry Gaius…the dancing is that way." He indicated to a direction in the dark. "Have fun. Good night."

Arthur grabbed her hand and they ran the remaining distance. When they reached the empty camp, they were both breathless…but laughing.

Without hesitation, Arthur led her towards his tent…but a few steps later, he realized that it was not in its usual location.

They both searched the area and Arthur's eyes picked up a shadow at the very edge of the clearing…a long distance away from all the other tents. It was painfully obvious to both of them that the tent had been moved _far _away on purpose…and Arthur in this moment wished to know which of his men had had the foresight so that he could reward that individual in the morning.

However, Guinevere was mortified that the knights knew their intentions…

She turned to Arthur, covering her face with her hands. "How will I face them tomorrow?"

"Who said you're going to be seeing them at all, _tomorrow_?" Arthur cheekily replied. Gwen's embarrassment somehow gave him even more courage.

Arthur's open declaration of his desires reduced her to a flushed statue. She wanted to move to the distant tent, but it seemed that her feet were rooted to the spot. _This is silly, _she thought. _You've known him for so long…and you _want_ to be in that FAR away tent…"_

Arthur started to walk towards the tent. "Come on, Gwen." He glanced over his shoulder, but seeing that she was unable to move…he sighed impatiently.

Striding back to her again, he asked. "What do you want to do? Stand here all night?"

She shook her head, half-smiling. He came closer to her…she felt heat rising in her face and she wrapped her arms around his neck, breathing in the scent of his clothes.

For a second he rested his chin on the top of her head. Then, in one fluid movement, he supported her back and lifted her feet off the ground. She clung to him, looking into his eyes, as he walked slowly to the tent. He ducked under the flaps and placed her carefully on her shaky feet.

The intensity of his gaze on her stripped her of her shyness and suddenly the need to be close to him overwhelmed her. Without warning, she closed the space between them with a searing kiss. He responded with fervor, in his eagerness pushing them towards the tent wall. Except when Gwen's back met the fabric, there was nothing to support her and she tumbled to the ground, giggling as his weight gave away too…and losing balance, he fell on top of her, nearly crushing her.

They both looked at each other sheepishly and burst into peals of laughter. His face was inches from hers as he held himself above her, his hands on either sides of her body.

All of a sudden, he stopped laughing. His normally light blue eyes darkened with lust when he realized how close he was to her.

And she couldn't stand it anymore…she yearned for his touch. But for the first time that evening, he looked hesitant…

This was new to both of them and swallowing her own insecurities, Gwen rolled him over so he could feel her on top of him for a fleeting second…but just as quickly, she rose to her feet.

His eyes widened as he raised himself on his elbows. "Gwen…what are you…" he began…but he could not finish his sentence for she had turned her back to him and had started to unfasten her dress. She walked to the cot, slipping it down her shoulders and back…and the dress clung to her waist.

Once she reached the cot, she kicked off her slippers and turned to face him, still holding her gown up at the front.

He shook himself and bounded to his feet. In two steps he reached her and kissed her hungrily…one hand was behind her neck and the other yanked her hand away from where she was clutching her dress. The dress did not fall completely…it still, much to Arthur's annoyance, clung to her hips. He trailed kisses down her body until he reached the curve of her hip. He looked up at her and without a pause, pulled her gown to the floor…

… The rising sun cast shadows in the tent, some light trickling in through the crevices. Gwen could barely breathe, squeezed tightly under Arthur's arm, but she listened to his loud snores contently. She felt warm on one side because of his body heat, but cold on the other…so she drew the thick blanket closer to her. Shifting a little to her left, trying not to disturb him, she stretched her stiff arms above her head.

A glint of gold on her left hand surprised her and she let out a little cry.

She sat up quickly, which jolted Arthur awake. "What's wrong?" he asked groggily.

"Look…" She grabbed his left hand and waved it in front of him. "You've got one too!"

He, too, sat himself up on the tiny cot, his hair all-askew. The cot creaked loudly. Arthur examined his hand…what used to be a green stem from a flower had turned into a gold band.

While they examined their rings curiously, Arthur drew Guinevere against his body.

"Who could it be from?" asked Guinevere.

Arthur could only think of _one _person who loved them both dearly and had not attended the wedding. "Merlin," he said with certainty.

"How could it be?" Gwen turned to face her husband. "How could he have known?"

Arthur stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. "Kilgharrah must have told him. They can talk through their minds, you know…"

Impressed, Gwen twirled the ring on her finger, admiring its smoothness. "I wish Merlin _had _come…"

"Me too," Arthur said heavily. It felt good to no longer hide how much he missed his friend.

"But we'll see him soon." Gwen comfortingly rubbed Arthur's side.

Arthur nodded and moving her hair aside, began to place light kisses on her neck.

Gwen was deeply touched at Merlin's thoughtfulness. "Merlin is the best friend we have…we both are forever indebted to him. You know, when he found me in his bed…"

"WHAT!" Arthur stopped his ministrations at once, and turned her chin to face him. "You were in his bed before mine!" His tone was half-joking, half-serious as he spoke, but Gwen just smiled coyly.

"You prat…it was because I was crying there…when I thought _you_ were dead. And he found me there…and sent me to you."

Arthur's doubts instantly evaporated, pleased that even while in Merlin's bed she had been thinking about him. She began to untangle herself from his limbs to get dressed, but Arthur had a different plan in mind. Just as he tried to reach for her arm and pull her back, they heard Leon's voice.

They could see his tall shadow outside the tent. "My lord, my lady…there is an attack on a nearby village! We must leave at once, Arthur…" Leon said with urgency.

Arthur and Gwen exchanged glances as he hastily scrambled out of the cot and began to pull on his clothes. Gwen watched with worry in her heart, but forced herself to plaster a smile on her face as he picked up his sword and kissed her cheek.

"I'll see you later," he called as he hurried out of the tent.

Although this was the first time Arthur was going to fight, it already felt like a routine to him. But to Gwen, it felt like she had missed a page in between.

When had it become normal to leave your bed to fight magicians on the morning after your marriage?

At least when he had been sulking…he had been safe. Now there would be a permanent shadow in her heart…

She looked down at the wedding gift from Merlin and it assured her that they were not alone in this fight.

Exiled or not, she had married a Prince. This was to be her life…and it was better to grin and bear for all their sakes.

* * *

_A/N: So, beloved readers, after much thought/debate we've decided to put this question of utmost importance (not really!) to you - We know this chapter is kind of overflowing with maple-syrup sugary sweetness, but do YOU as readers, feel the A/G scenes to be overdone/too much/the taste of sugar in your mouth is so overwhelming you've decided that you're going to attempt a sugar-free diet from now on? _

_We believe, knowing what is to come, that these scenes are appropriate, as a kind of half-way "celebration" of the journey so far, to cheer up the mood before we unleash the "wildren!" as Colin would say. However, we also want all of you to be able to relate to A/G, regardless of what ship you sail on (We sort of ship everyone/everyone lol). Basically, our idea was that if you do feel it is too much, we can cut back on aspects of certain scenes, especially the wedding, to lessen the cotton candy. That being said, the wedding night is quite close to our hearts so that's not going anywhere :P_

___...In all seriousness though, please tell us what you think - we really will take it seriously and work on it! Many thanks and hugs from Bradley and Colin in advance!_

___Edit: So after even more questioning of this chapter, we've decided to cut the wedding scene. However, if you really want to still read it, we've posted it as a separate one-shot. _


	16. Chapter 15

**So many paths that wind and wind...**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: Hello, hello one and all! First off, we apologize sincerely for taking so long with this chapter...but hopefully it has whet your appetite! The truth is, though writing is a wonderful way to procrastinate studying (and trust us when we say we tend to do a LOT of procrastination), unfortunately, sometimes studying has to be done :( Luckily, however, at long last we have churned out a chapter that we hope is fantabulous in your eyes! We tend to say this every chapter, but really - this one ESPECIALLY was an important one for us, we hashed out the details over many a baguette and cheese in la belle France. _

_Speaking of belle, how did you all enjoy the season 3 finale? (We'd be lying if we said we weren't cheering every time a knight of Camelot walked by in the background. Seriously - where do they GET these beau knights?). _

_Anyway, being in the midst of our infection and immunity block, we were up "studying" one night and finally discovered that we were both suffering from a devastating infection called MWS. That's right - Merlin withdrawal syndrome. Our symptoms included: general listlessness, quoting random lines from Merlin, attempting to recruit other watchers, and compulsively changing our desktop backgrounds to various pictures of the same Colin. Luckily, the prescription was within our reach - a few solid evenings of writing our story, and well...three snow days later - here we are!_

_To ALL our readers, thank you so much for checking our story out - we hope you enjoy this chapter! Review away, and do tell us about the symptoms you experience during MWS...if you know of a cure, besides the arrival of season 4, and a magic reveal (PLEASE BBC!) then do share! And you will receive blessings and thanks from two very very ill fellow fans :)_

* * *

**Chapter 16**

"One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can't utter"

~ James Earl Jones

"For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, who art as black as hell, as dark as night."

~ William Shakespeare

* * *

Hurriedly, Morgana unlocked the jail door and ushered the three terrified commoners out of the cell.

Their only crime had been simply daring to cross Morgause's path on one of her moodier days, and Morgana would not stand for their faultless imprisonment.

When the Queen's sister had suddenly appeared at the jail door, the prisoners had looked shocked and had backed away in fear; they had never before seen the lady, but when she had hastily introduced herself, they immediately relaxed for word had passed to them that it was she who had been responsible for their daily meals.

Morgana had sent the guards to fetch ale for her from the cellars and she anxiously checked her surroundings to make sure they hadn't returned. Knowing she had limited time, she stuffed a piece of parchment into one of the prisoner's hands. "Follow this map. It will lead you out of Camelot through the vaults. Go, quickly now! I can only buy you a few minutes," she whispered urgently. She tried to smile bravely at them, to give them some hope.

Gratefully, each of the prisoners clutched her hand in turn and the three ragged people rushed by her into the darkness.

She did not even have time to lock the jail door again. Almost instantantly, she heard Morgause's men returning and was forced to do some quick thinking. Clutching her heart, she feigned a scream of terror. "Oh my!"

Before she knew it, two magicians had surrounded her on either side and were looking upon her with concern, completely ignoring the open door of the cell. Morgana could not believe their lack of observation, and inside she derisively sneered at the men her sister had employed.

"What is it?" one of them asked.

Morgana continued her act, dramatically fanning herself as a magician took her arm to support her. "It's the prisoners! They just ran past me…I do not know how they opened the door," she mumbled in a feeble voice.

The magicians looked at each other in fear of how Morgause would punish them. One waved his hand and the warning bells began to ring.

"You had better go after them," Morgana said faintly over the ringing sounds. "They went _that _way!" She pointed opposite to the direction in which the commoners had fled.

The magicians took off immediately pushing the jug of wine into Morgana's hands, leaving her smirking in the dark. She turned and holding the jug tightly to her chest, she bolted for the stairs and ran straight into a tall figure.

The wine splashed all over her cloak and dress, as the jug clattered down the stairs. She looked up in anger, but her gaze softened when she realized it was Nilrhoem. He was already bent over, trying to blot the wine stains from the hem of her dress with his cloak.

She tried to pull her dress from his grasp. "Forget it, leave it…we must go," she whispered anxiously.

It was too late.

Before Nilrhoem could straighten, Morgana saw the wine disappear off the floor and stains on her dress vanish. Both simultaneously looked to the head of the stairs and saw the shadow of Morgause materialize before them.

Morgause's face came into view, full of disdain, and she glided down the stairs pausing at their level. "Have you forgotten you have magic, Nilrhoem?" she asked impatiently. Without waiting for an answer, she snapped her head to Morgana angrily. "It is nearly midnight, Morgana! Why are you here of all places?" Morgause paused for a second but then continued, her suspicion rising with the identical blank stares on the faces of her court magician and sister. "What have you done _now_, Morgana? I know you have been slipping the prisoners food, but did you think you could set them free without me knowing about it?"

Morgause's features, which were normally delicate, were now contorted into a snarl. She had had enough of Morgana's childish tricks to undermine her authority. There was a reason why Morgana was here and the empty prison cell behind Morgana gave the game away.

Morgana tried to appeal to her sister's soft side. "Morgause…sister, it hurts me that you would say this." She met Morgause's gaze with innocence, but a hint of defiance lurked underneath.

Nilrhoem was surprised at how sincere Morgana's voice sounded. He stood between the two women, not sure whether he should slink away or stay. He had followed Morgana into the dungeons suspecting that she was up to something and he had been right. He was surprised at the bold step she had taken against her sister, and now he felt obliged to say something in her defence.

"Actually…" Nilrhoem began, as Morgause's gaze snapped back to him. It seemed as though she could see through his disguise…and his badly disguised story even before he had had a chance to tell it. "I was accompanying Morgana to fetch the wine and we were making our way back when we heard the bells." Nilrhoem could almost feel Morgana's gratitude, but Morgause's eyes narrowed dangerously.

The Queen scoffed at their antics. She felt that she could get to the bottom of this if she wished, but was she willing to invest time in discovering the truth? Especially since investigating this matter would only lead to more conflict between her and Morgana. No…it wasn't worth the trouble for Morgause…

"Alright Morgana, but next time…there should not be a next time," Morgause said, stressing each word. She tried to impress upon her younger sister that she was completely serious, with the severity of her look.

Morgause knew that Morgana was young and impulsive…and perhaps couldn't be relied upon for anything, but _Nilrhoem_ was another matter. He had proven his loyalty and maturity, considering his young age.

Queen Morgause brushed by them and at the bottom of the stairs she called back over her shoulder to Nilrhoem, "At least make sure that the Lady Morgana gets back to her chambers without causing any more trouble."

Ignoring Morgause's taunting words, the now slightly deflated and reprimanded Morgana stomped up the stairs with Nilrhoem following dutifully.

By the time they had left the dungeons, however, Nilrhoem was walking alongside her and both had a slight spring in their step. She gave her new friend a grateful smile and he blurted out, "I hope you told them to leave through the burial vaults…otherwise she will find them easily." He spoke quietly, as magicians kept passing them, on their way to respond to the alarm.

Morgana shivered, rubbing her arms for warmth as they walked briskly and purposefully past Morgause's sorcerers, for outside the castle, the night wind was howling, snow falling rather violently to the ground. It certainly would not be the optimal night for travel, but Morgana hoped with all her heart that the people she had rescued would make their escape without too much trouble.

"Yes, I did," she replied rather absent-mindedly to her companion as they took a left turn towards the royal quarters. "Hardly anybody knows about those vaults," Morgana added confidently after a pause; she knew full well that the prisoners had a very good chance of slipping past undetected because she was sure that only _she_ knew of…

Immediately, Morgana's small smile wiped off her face as she realized what she had just said. She stopped mid-stride and Nilrhoem continued walking jauntily on for a few steps before he realized that she wasn't following.

He turned to find her frozen behind him. "Is everything alright, Morgana?"

"Yes…everything is just fine," Morgana replied in a dazed voice. She watched his back carefully as he resumed walking, trying to internalize the length of his stride as she searched her memory for a match.

They were both silent for the rest of their journey; the number of people in the hallways had dwindled as they moved further from the main palace. Just when they reached the foot of the winding staircase to her chambers, the warning bells stopped ringing.

Their eyes met, and they both inwardly sighed with relief, knowing that her plan had succeeded and Morgause had given up the chase.

Nilrhoem led them up the stairs and opened the door. The door swung inwards and he entered to hold the door open for Morgana. She gave him a calculating look before she swept towards her armoire, in the dark.

She had left her window open, through which some moonlight was lighting the room, but the violent wind was causing the curtains to billow. The hangings around her bed were also moving back and forth. Nilrhoem moved towards the window, ready to close it for her, but she shook her head. He frowned knowing that she must be cold, so instead he raised his right hand and lit the candles with a spell and with the other he gestured to her fireplace and lit the hearth.

He then retreated to the door, unsure of what to say…waiting to be dismissed. But she took her time rummaging through her clothes, looking for a suitable nightgown. As she sorted through the many fine silks, without looking towards him, she casually spoke. "Thank you for helping me. Though you come from so far away, I feel as though over the past many weeks we have become friends." Nilrhoem said nothing, though he was gratified. "It must be difficult for you, being so far away from your home," she said slowly. "I have never asked you before – how do you like it, here in Camelot?"

"Oh, it's wonderful being in such a big city," Nilrhoem said comfortably. He had practiced this lie many a time with other people in Morgause's company. "I get lost all the time because I'm from such a small village…"

Morgana turned to face him and raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" Morgana knew that he was an imposter – that he been in Camelot before…because there was no other explanation for him knowing about the burial vaults. She placed a white nightgown over her screen, but did not step behind it. Instead, she studied his face before deciding her next move. "You must value your position here immensely."

"Of course." He stepped forward enthusiastically.

His step triggered a memory. Her inkling of doubt had turned into a certainty…she knew that he was familiar for a reason.

"But it was brave what you did for me…you know, for a second there earlier…I thought you were going to hand me over to Morgause." She moved forward, her face friendly and innocent and she saw his eyes contradict her words with their warmth.

"I'm glad you have so much faith in me, Morgana," he joked. "But _you_…are taking a huge risk helping them."

"I wouldn't want to see innocent people die. What harm have they ever done anyone?" Morgana asked, familiarity washing over her in waves. She was responding automatically, but somehow, instinctively, she knew that every word of this conversation was leading her to the truth.

The magician and the witch met in the centre of the room, reliving a moment that they had shared in her chambers two years past.

"Morgause thinks that those without magic are less worthy." Though he was looking at the ground, Nilrhoem spoke openly; his words were coming without thought.

"Morgause is wrong," Morgana said sharply.

Nilrhoem looked up at her tone in surprise. "You _really _believe that?"

"Why should they suffer because of something that was ordained by the Old Religion? Magic isn't something you choose…it chooses you," Morgana said with genuine feeling, momentarily forgetting that she was on a mission to uncover the truth behind Nilrhoem.

Nilrhoem said nothing in response, but gazed at her in open admiration, and for all the precautionary barriers he had tried to keep between them…Merlin was now completely off-guard and defenseless.

"Why are you looking at me like that…?" Morgana quickly countered, but her voice trailed off when the pieces in her mind fell into place. "…Merlin." It was not a question. She whispered his name as though it was nothing out of the ordinary, as if it was the most natural way to complete her sentence.

The familiar sound of his name from her lips elicited his most primal response. He replied right away, not realizing that he had condemned himself. "No reason."

Before he knew what was happening, he felt a sharp prod in his stomach as he was pushed against the open door. "What are you…" he began, but Morgana's eyes were flashing.

"I should have known it was you," she spat. "Nil-reem…_Merlin_. What do you take me for…a fool?"

Morgana approached him swiftly with her fists clenched, ready for another assault, but this time Merlin was ready. He ducked her blow and slammed the door shut. "Morgana…we need to talk," he said with urgency.

She was so livid she didn't even hear what he said. She raised her hand to slap him across the face, but then stopped herself. "You coward…" she said through her teeth. "At least have the decency to show me your _real _face!"

Knowing his options were few, he raised his hands in surrender and before her eyes, his tanned face paled and his long nose receded; his round face became sharp and his blue eyes looked at her pleadingly. "Let me explain…I know this is a shock…"

The sight of his familiar face angered her even further. She hadn't seen him in so long…and he now had this infuriating shadow of a beard that reminded her of her friend Nilrhoem…who apparently had been a lie, all along. "After everything you did…you have the audacity to come back here? How could you? You made me trust you and like you. How could I have been so blind?" She cursed herself for her stupidity, but was not deterred in her wrath towards him. "You poisoned me, you bastard. And on top of everything, you have _magic_?" She continued to glare at him and he cringed at her harsh, but deserving words.

"I'm sorry, Morgana." Merlin looked downtrodden and she found the way he avoided her eyes to be pathetic, not apologetic.

"You're _sorry_? Everything is all better now, Merlin…because you're _sorry_." The sarcasm dripped from every syllable. "I should have you fed to the dogs…if Morgause knew you were here, she would…she would…"

"But you're not going to tell her," he said softly, but with certainty, watching her pick up her dagger from her bedside without an ounce of fear.

She approached him predatorily and he barely flinched when she pressed the dagger to his throat. He could feel her soft breath on his face as she spoke. Her voice was no longer raised, and it was all the more terrifying, though in truth, he was _not _scared of her.

"I want the satisfaction of killing you myself…I want to watch you die the way you watched me…"

He closed his eyes in silent pain at the memory. However much he tried, he could never fully forgive himself for that…and how could he blame her now for her anger?

With her dagger, she traced a line down his chest, stopping at his heart. She took a step back, filled with silent rage at his outward unchanging calm expression. "You won't fight back?" she jibed.

His eyes met hers. "No," he said simply, willing himself not to move.

Morgana raised her dagger and his eyes flashed gold, the dagger was wrenched from her grasp and thrown to the other side of the room.

"I said I won't fight you…but that doesn't mean I won't defend myself." This time Merlin stepped forward as she stepped back, breathing fast.

Her face could not hide her amazement at his magic. She had seen him do countless spells as Nilrhoem, but somehow seeing _Merlin's _eyes flash gold filled her with both fascination and seething anger. She couldn't believe that _Merlin_, the bumbling servant to Arthur, had just done more magic in one second than she had in her lifetime.

"Morgana…" He reached out a hand to her hesitantly, but she flung his hand away, moving backwards as if being near him would suffocate her.

"Why didn't you _tell _me?" she growled. "Before all this…before your stupid attempt at being someone from Continent, before the war with Alvarr, before you _poisoned _me…_why_?"

He wanted to lessen the blow of his answer and comfort her, assure her that it was what he had wanted to do all along…but he was sick of lies and of her acting as if it was all _his_ fault. "You want to know why? You know what, Morgana? I didn't tell you because you proved over and over again that you were not trustworthy. How could I tell my secret to someone who never had their head on their shoulders?" Merlin could not stop himself, his rant turned bitter quickly as words began to pour out…words that he had held in for so long on the accord that she was of a higher position than him.

"All this time, when you were discovering your magic, consorting with dark magicians and planning Uther's death…who do you think covered up your every misstep? You don't think before you do _anything_…you think the end justifies the means and in the process, you end up destroying everything! Just look at what you've done here…you killed the man who raised you, drove your best friends out of the city because of your actions and gave Morgause the leverage she needed to take over Camelot…and once more, I am forced to stay here and undo what you have done." He raised his hands in frustration, not even looking at her. "I _hate _it here…away from everyone I love. And the saddest fact, Morgana, is that the closest thing I have to a friend in this city is _you_ and I hate seeing you everyday and being reminded of how we are all suffering because of you…Gaius, Gwen, Arthur…"

Merlin's tone was uncharacteristically cruel, but he paused when he heard a dry sob behind him. Turning, he saw her, ashen-faced, sitting on her bed, trying to stifle tears as she avoided his eyes. Merlin knew that Morgana was tougher than a lot of people believed…and her emotional reaction to his words meant that he had unknowingly forced her to confront some of her worst fears.

He groaned in frustration. "Oh no, Morgana…you don't get to do this to me. I am _not_ going to comfort you." Merlin turned his back and folded his arms, not wanting her tears to melt his hard resolve. But almost immediately, he turned around again, cursing himself…and her.

Merlin strode towards her in two steps and crouched down on the floor, facing her. He looked up at her face, which she tried valiantly to hide as she rubbed her tears away on her shoulder. Placing one hand near her on the bed, he waved his other hand, whispering the complicated spell to remove the barriers around Camelot.

In response, she finally looked at him – with narrowed eyes – wondering what he was doing. His eyes returned to their normal colour but she could still feel the power in the room, the reverberations of his magic, and it sent an involuntary chill down her spine.

"Arthur is alive. See for yourself...I just removed the barriers around the city."

"No, he isn't…what are you talking about Merlin?" Morgana was confused and shocked at the new claim Merlin was making.

Merlin raised himself to her eye level and his eyes turned golden, opening up her mind. As images started to flood her, she tried to focus her mind and find Arthur…though she expected to find nothing.

Almost immediately, however, she sensed her foster sibling's spirit strongly. Her mind's eye focused on a campsite…

_Despite the darkness around them, a small crowd watched eagerly as Arthur parried with Sir Robin. Even though snow was falling heavily, the group cheered both warriors loudly, thoroughly entertained by their late night training. As Robin huffed and clutched his ribs, Arthur winked at Gwen, who shook her head at him but continued to watch with a small smile on her face…_

Morgana's eyes flew open. Her first response was complete shock…everything she had believed for the past months was completely turned on its head…and slowly the shock faded to be replaced by relief. She had never felt so thankful, she could have hugged the man before her…and then she remembered it was _Merlin_, who was now standing nonchalantly with his arms folded, staring at her intently.

Her full eyes told Merlin that she was not beyond redemption…

"Why then, did Morgause believe Arthur to be dead?" Morgana asked, her voice shaking a little.

Merlin said directly, not bothering to sugar coat his opinion, "You know your sister better than I do…"

Morgana looked at her hands remembering all the comfort Morgause had offered her after informing her of Arthur's death. "Perhaps…she doesn't know."

Merlin snorted. "Perhaps…or perhaps she lied. Either way, what matters is, are you going to tell her?" Merlin enquired impatiently. "Do you not know that her ambition for the throne trumps all her other feelings…? If you tell her of his intent of returning…our plan would have been for nothing."

Not wanting to believe what Merlin had said, she sat silently for a while. But seeing no other option, she had to accept his words. "You know that I would never do anything to hurt Arthur…"

"But you killed his father," Merlin countered swiftly. After such a long time of being the powerless one in their relationship, he took pleasure in being brutally honest, in seeing the hurt in her eyes…and his vindication gave him a strange satisfaction.

Being told that Arthur had died in battle had been one of the hardest things that she had had to face, but now she felt that it would be inconceivably harder to face him alive…after she had caused him so much pain. Defensively, she responded, "I did what I had to do and I don't regret it. I miss Uther as a guardian, but he was a tyrant…and don't tell me that you didn't think of ending his life yourself…_you_ just didn't have the stomach to do it!" Her rage returned in full force. She stood up and marched towards him, until they were nose to nose. "Yet you had the stomach to kill _me_…you, Merlin, are the biggest hypocrite. You told me that I could trust you…but you never trusted me. You knew I had magic…and I cannot believe that knowing how lost I was, you made me feel even more isolated. You have no right to make judgments about _my_ actions when you are no saint yourself! And neither am I…we are both sinners. The only difference is…I had the courage to stand up for what I believed in and end Uther's life…but you cowardly sacrificed me," she snarled.

She was barely inches away from him, and as uncomfortable as he was, he refused to back away. Her words were forcing him to finally confront what he had always thought to be his biggest mistake. He swallowed. "It wasn't for Uther that I poisoned you…it was for Camelot." His voice gained in strength as he spoke aloud what some part of him had inwardly known from the beginning. "The truth is, Morgana, if I had to make that choice again…I would still choose Camelot."

Morgana could not believe that in his grand idealistic world, she meant nothing to him. She was unable to say anything…and her eyes fell to the ground.

Merlin stepped away, staring at her disbelieving face. "It doesn't mean that it didn't hurt…that it doesn't still hurt."

The immense sorrow that threatened to break his even tone made Morgana look up sharply. He blinked rapidly, keeping his eyes on her feet, and seeing his failing attempts to hide the wetness in his eyes, Morgana's heart thawed slightly.

"We both have magic, we both would die for the people we love and in a way, we both have always been outsiders condemned to hide who we really are." Her voice was soft as she tried to put into words why they were the same and yet so different. "And yet…why is it that even though we both want what is best for Camelot, we stand on opposing sides? Why am _I_ always the one to lose while you emerge unscathed and victorious? I am left with blood on my hands, a villain in anyone's eyes…but you, Merlin, still are unblemished, untouched by the horrors we have faced." Her tone was bitter, but not accusing, for once.

Merlin understood her sentiments, because he himself had wondered why he had been given such a free reign in matters that concerned his morality. He knew the answer: it was because of his destiny, Arthur. "I am just as much of a villain as you. Do you think that my actions have not weighed on my conscience? If I were to be judged, I would be found guilty, but I cannot afford to think on it for my destiny is larger than one man's conscience. My magic was given to me as a gift…to ensure that Arthur becomes King of Camelot because he will be the one to unite Albion and lead us all into the greatest age of mankind." His heart swelled with pride as he thought about the dragon's words, earlier that very day, when Kilgharrah had continuously praised Arthur for his nobility and strength; Merlin surmised from Kilgharrah's tone that Arthur was not only gaining in confidence from his battles for the villages, but also in support…but even then, did he now have enough to defeat Morgause's mighty army?

Morgana's eyes widened as she saw yet another shade of Merlin's character. Images of Merlin standing obediently behind Arthur invaded her mind. Was it because of his destiny that he had stood by so subserviently when all that time, he had held _this _much magic and power in his grasp?

Unable to compete with the scale of his destiny, Morgana brushed past him to shut the window they had both forgotten. As she passed him, he felt the soft fabric of her gown graze his elbow – the touch stung him and he turned to face her back.

Without the noise of the storm, the room felt suddenly very quiet, empty…almost expectant.

She toyed with the curtains as she spoke. "I thought _I_ had a purpose, but I've lost what I was fighting for in the first place."

"It's not over yet, Morgana. Maybe there's still a way…"

Morgana's back stiffened. "But that would mean…helping _you_."

He cleared his throat. "Would that be so bad?" Merlin asked in a low voice, hoping against hope that her answer would save them both.

There was a long pause and Morgana made up her mind. "Yes," she replied coldly.

Merlin's shoulders slumped and he lowered his eyes. Without a word, he turned and strode to the door. He could expect no more from her…

Morgana heard him open the door and she spun to see his retreating back – his hair became curly and the back of his neck darkened as Nilrhoem walked down the hallway.

Her head was spinning, and her heart raced as she clutched the nearby chair, knowing that the mystery shrouding Merlin was not completely resolved.

* * *

"Duck!" Arthur screamed, pushing Leon down as a magic fireball whizzed over their heads.

Leon thanked him with a clap on the back and ran towards the offender who had pelted the fire at them.

Even though it was nighttime, the scene before them was clearly visible in the light of the flames.

The village of Ivadham was burning.

Arthur looked up at Kilgharrah, who was circling above them, shooting fire at his own kin.

Arthur and his men had arrived in this village at the dead of the night…fortunately, just before the village was attacked.

Due to their growing network of spies, Arthur and his knights were now able to anticipate, much of the time, where the magicians would strike next. Over the past months, they had fought for many such villages and though some were lost to them, a lot of them _had_ been protected. This meant that more and more people were learning of Arthur's cause and joining his side; their camp around Ingersoll was growing in size and Arthur was making the best out of the situation by having the knights train the new recruits.

Arthur shouted to a new trainee, Gary. "Behind you – watch out!" It was too late, however, and the spear pierced right through Gary.

Incensed, Arthur signaled to Kilgharrah above him and together, the warrior on the ground and the beast in the air converged on the magician, who watched helplessly as Kilgharrah knocked him to the ground with his claw and Arthur held him at sword point.

"Why are you doing this? You are of this village…I saw you even before the others came!" Arthur roared over the sounds of the battle.

Defiantly, the magician pushed away Arthur's blade out of his face. "Our time has come…I have been trampled upon for so long."

"And now you would seek to trample upon others? I will not allow that to happen…"

…A few paces from Arthur, Lancelot helped up a fallen child and carried the young boy to where the remaining villagers had gathered, behind the wall of fire that had been created by Kilgharrah.

When Lancelot returned, he triumphantly noticed that the majority of the fighting had ceased and all the magicians had been cleared out and were scrambling back into the woods. He saw Gareth holding a young girl of no more than sixteen at sword point, and Lancelot ran towards the knight.

Before he had run more than a few paces, Arthur was already ahead of him. The Prince rounded on his knight. "Gareth, have you lost your mind? Let go of her!"

Angrily, Gareth tightened his grip on the struggling girl. "She's one of them! You didn't see her attack that family…" Gareth pointed towards a burning hut.

Arthur looked at her wide eyes and pulled Gareth's hand away. "What's your name, girl?" he asked the shaking young thing.

"Bree, sir," she responded fearfully.

"Bree, you're too young for this. Go home to your family. Your magic should not rob you of your innocence."

Around them, the knights were helping up the injured, accompanying them to their families.

The girl said nothing. "Promise me you will not use your magic to harm others, but to help those less fortunate," Arthur said solemnly to the young girl.

He nodded to her, and then walked away, putting his hand on Gareth's shoulder and guiding him away from Bree. Bree watched as Arthur directed the knights to help the villagers with their possessions and she gave a small smirk. Swiftly, she sprang to her feet and scurried off into the forest…

…Within the hour, the villagers were ready to move and the knights headed the long trek back to Ingersoll.

The village leader of Ivadham hung back to speak with Arthur, who was bringing up the rear, one young child on his back and a few bags in his arms.

Ackerley gratefully grasped Arthur's forearm to express his gratitude. "Those of us who live owe our lives to you."

"It has become harder for us now that magicians from within the villages are joining in the destruction…but not all those who have magic have been on Morgause's side. Some villages that we have saved have had magicians who have stepped forward to fight for us." Sighing, Arthur thought of those who had not made it this night and added, "I am sorry that we couldn't save more of your people, Ackerley."

"You did the best you could, my lord, and we are going to follow you until the end." Ackerley bowed and gave him a warm smile, hurrying onwards to join his family.

About an hour later, they had nearly reached the encampment – others had long relieved him of the bags he had been carrying and Arthur now only carried the little boy on his back, who had long ago fallen asleep.

While the others moved on ahead to the campsite, Arthur lingered behind in the forest, knowing that the dragon would want to speak with him.

Sure enough, as soon as the knights and villagers had disappeared, Kilgharrah swept down and landed noiselessly next to Arthur. "Well done," he said in his deep, rumbling voice, looking approvingly upon on the outcast leader.

Arthur nodded absently, but his face held more than a few questions.

"What's troubling you, young prince?"

"I…I'm not sure how to ask you. I want to thank you for continuing to help us, though I wonder why you do, for in truth, you are turning your back on your kind."

"My kind only consists of the the ones who follow truth, companionship and love." If the young Kilgharrah had heard his own current words, he would have laughed in ridicule. In his youth, the dragon had been focused primarily on demonstrating his valour, inspiring fear, and above all establishing his power over other magical beings. But the title of the "Great Dragon" had not been bestowed upon him for his ignorant younger years. Kilgharrah knew this was to be his last great battle and it was no longer about divisions and proving the superiority of magic – the wisdom of his years had finally caught up with the Great Dragon and now, it was time to step back and enable the young to carry the legacy of his noble breed, whether he was the last of his kin or not.

Arthur could not express in words his gratitude to Kilgharrah – he knew that they would not have won a single battle without him. He nodded to the Great Dragon to show that he had understood what Kilgharrah was trying to say.

Then abruptly, for the tenth time that week, Arthur asked Kilgharrah,"Have you spoken to Merlin?" This question was always on Arthur's lips. He could not even begin to understand how he had been managing without Merlin during this time, the most defining moments of his life.

"Yes, he knows that you have gathered a lot of manpower, but I have told him that you will need more than just men to defeat your enemies," Kilgharrah informed Arthur.

Carefully Arthur adjusted the boy's legs that he was holding in his arms so as not to awaken him. Frowning, he said, "With you and Merlin we should have no trouble defeating Morgause."

"It's not Morgause that worries me," Kilgharrah said with dread. "There is another you will encounter. He's a brethren of mine…"

"Another dragon?" Arthur asked worriedly.

"Nay, another Dragonlord…one related by blood to Merlin. This is not my secret to tell, but tell you I must for you cannot enter the battlefield unawares."

Arthur looked surprised. "Does Merlin know?"

"Yes…the man I speak of is Merlin's half-brother. You've met him before…he owes you his life. But the next time you see him, Arthur, Mordred will be unrecognizable to you."

"Mordred…" Arthur paused and tried to recall why the name sounded so familiar. "The Druid boy? He's just a child…and besides what does he have to do with any of this?" Arthur looked to Kilgharrah for an explanation, but he felt slightly relieved that it was nothing more frightening than a young boy that posed a threat to them.

"The Druid boy you helped has meddled in dark magic and has merged his soul to that of the last dragon. Mordred can merge into the dragon at will and he has matured unnaturally fast into a man. I had warned Merlin long ago not to support Morgana in her quest to save the boy, for it is his destiny to cause you great harm and destroy – be a threat – to your kingdom."

Kilgharrah's voice became chilling, but Arthur was still unable to comprehend the seriousness of the warning that he was receiving.

It was mostly because it was getting quite late, and Arthur's stomach was grumbling furiously. His cold feet were longing for the fire, and his aching back was longing for Gwen's soothing hands.

"Alright," Arthur began slowly. Ever practical, he added, "Let us first tackle Morgause and then we can look after the Mordred problem. If he _is_ Merlin's brother, perhaps Merlin can somehow avert what you fear will come to pass."

The dragon gave an impatient sigh. "Morgause and Mordred are on the same side, and it was Morgana that brought them together. Sooner or later, you will have to face Mordred…"

Arthur missed Kilgharrah's last few words because he was left dwelling on Morgana…it was still strange to think of her as the enemy. He wondered whether she knew of how the non-magic people were being treated under Morgause and he refused to believe that she had any part to play in the torture of innocents. But then again, he would never have believed that she would end Uther's life either...

Arthur sighed…he needed to accept that he had been kept in the dark about so many things before, and he couldn't afford to be so naïve. Yet, he couldn't give up Morgana…

"Just remember that Mordred is not like Merlin; he will try to seduce you with his display of magic, his ambition. Do not to be fooled into thinking that his magic has all the answers…his is a selfish magic. The promises that he will make you will be broken the moment he no longer has use for you."

"You know I will never turn to Mordred over Merlin." The boy in Arthur's arms was slowly getting heavier and Arthur could smell the wafting aroma of meat stew from the nearby camp.

"I know," Kilgharrah said with certainty. "But I also know that it pains you to see your people suffer so. And Mordred _could_ end this – he could end this in an instant. But it would come at a price that you would never be able to pay."

With that, the dragon abruptly took off into the twinkling night sky, leaving Arthur rather bewildered. Arthur quickened his pace and within moments, reached the edge of the camp where Gwen was waiting eagerly.

When her husband emerged from the trees, carrying a young infant on his back, a feeling of warmth sprang from her heart. As he grinned at her, she pictured this very scene happening with a child of their own. She returned his grin with a radiant smile. They made their way around the tents together, speaking in low voices about their respective experiences that day.

The camp was abuzz with many voices, from several different villages. Introductions were being made amongst families, comfort was being exchanged amongst the mourners and Gaius was bustling around amongst the injured. The women from Ingersoll had brought like pots and pots of steaming stew, which was now being slurped down gratefully by the hungry mouths.

Near the fire, Sir Lancelot was being fussed over by Elaine. They had bonded well, growing closer over the weeks they had spent in each other's company. Though he had barely a few scratches on his arms, Elaine was taking great care of each one, carefully applying a sticky paste and when she thought no one was looking, giving him discrete kisses.

Most of the other knights were busy helping the villagers, but some were lying about basking in the commoners' admiration. Sir Leon had a stupid grin on his face as a very pregnant woman and her husband insisted that they would name their firstborn after him.

Arthur overheard this conversation and shrugging the boy off his shoulders, he held the child in one arm, the other wrapping around Gwen. He gave her a kiss on her cheek. "What if that child is a girl?" he asked in mock seriousness.

Gwen laughed. "Leona perhaps?" She took the small boy from Arthur's tired arms and carried him to fire.

Arthur hoped that this boy would survive these uncertain times. He remembered leaving Mordred with those Druids when he was only a few years older than this child. How did Mordred transform from that young boy into someone that even the Great Dragon spoke of with trepidation?

* * *

"You're young…to be involved," Morgause said to the red-haired girl.

There was no response from the girl before her.

The Council Chamber was lit only by a few floating candles that cast ominous shadows.

Morgause's face was only half visible as she spoke again, sharply. "You take a great risk in bringing this news to me. What is your name?"

"I am Bree, my queen," said the girl with self-assurance.

What Bree had told her had shined light on why some of her troops had not been returning from their missions to bring food from villagers and recruit more magicians for her growing army. Apparently, there was a band of men who were fighting for the villages and worse, they were led by a man who could pose a dangerous threat to her throne.

"What else can you tell me of this man who let you go?" Morgause asked.

"I don't know his name…but they all obeyed him unquestioningly." Bree stood straighter, her chin held high. She knew that this information might buy her a higher position in Morgause's ranks.

Morgause clapped her hands and two guards entered. This was a problem that had to be nipped at the bud. And from what Bree had said, she could not afford to underestimate this new enemy. She rose from her chair.

"Send for Mordred."


	17. Chapter 16

**So many paths that wind and wind…**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: Firstly, we are SO very sorry that this chapter took so long. We could go off on a tangent and tell you all about how we were busy with this and that, except it isn't that interesting unless...no, there is no unless...it just isn't that interesting. We wish we could promise that this will never happen again and that we will never take this long to post another chapter, but the truth is life is kind of hectic right now...but we DO promise that we will continue working on this whenever we get spare time and get chapters to you ASAHP (as soon as humanly possible). Hopefully we are forgiven...we could not bear to be in our readers' bad books even for a second!_

_So about this chapter...we have really been looking forward to writing this chapter for a very long time because it features the return of one of our favourite characters! (HINT: he is a lean, mean killing machine). We would love to know if you guys love him/hate him/lovate (love + hate) him! He is a nice bundle of death, destruction and angst so while most people say "nay..." to him, we say "yay!" Clearly, we have some issues in life but you all probably guessed that already. _

_Finally, we hope you enjoy this chapter and as always, leave a review...suggestions, thoughts, quotes, anything! Reviews are like fairy dust...it propels us to new heights. _

* * *

**Chapter 16**

"Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."

~ Winston Churchill

"Now here is a riddle

To guess if you can

Sing the bells of Notre Dame

Who is the monster?

And who is the man?"

~ The Bells of Notre Dame

* * *

"Two!" Arthur called and the villagers took a step forward, each one turning to their right as they crossed blades with their partners.

Arthur scrutinized the stance of the men to his right, and hastened towards James correcting the positioning of his sword.

"Three," he shouted, this time turning to the dozen or so villagers on his other side. While one half of the men took a step backwards, the other half came forward; this time their swords met with a clang at the level of their knees.

Arthur noted the marked improvement; these training sessions had begun to bear fruit far earlier than he had expected. He smiled at the much sharper footwork the villagers had just demonstrated, but he knew they still had a long way to go before they were ready for a real battle.

"One!" Arthur started the training practice again.

Before he could inspect everyone's technique, his attention was abruptly diverted as a clearly injured middle-aged man entered the small training field, supported by an elderly villager.

The old man was clearly short of breath as he stopped in front of the village trainees, holding onto the arm of the wounded man. At once, the older villager caught sight of and approached Arthur hastily. "My prince, this man wishes to speak with you right away! His village has been attacked as well."

Arthur felt his stomach lurch uneasily. He knew that there was not much that could be done since his best knights were away recruiting men from faraway places. He had only sent them away since it had been so long since _any _village had been attacked in the vicinity…but this man was proof enough that the attacks on villages were still a real threat. The wounded man stared blankly at the ground and the young Pendragon could see that this man had lost everything he had ever loved. Knowing there was nothing he could do at this moment to ease this man's suffering, Arthur suggested kindly, "Let this man rest first."

At his words, the injured man's head snapped up and he looked into Arthur's eyes directly. His voice was weak, but firm, as he said, "No, my lord. It was different…this cannot wait."

Arthur nodded to one of the many trainees who were curiously looking on, and the young townsman stepped forward.

"Fetch this man some water and bread, Gregory," Arthur said, as he led the party to the log where the old man lowered the weary traveler into a sitting position.

"Your name?" Arthur asked gently.

"Aram, my lord." Despite the grief in his eyes, there was a hint of reverence when he addressed Arthur. "When these men found me…they told me that Prince Arthur lives. You are our true King, my lord, and I am honoured to serve you."

Arthur smiled at the stranger, and felt immense gratitude well up inside him, for the implicit trust that so many of his people had unquestioningly placed in him.

When the bread and water appeared, Aram eagerly grabbed the plate and ate in silence for a few minutes while Arthur waited patiently. Finally, his mouth still full of food, he raised his head to the Prince's. "I am from Dunnemere, a village of nearly hundred. We had been hearing about other villages being attacked – but then everything quieted for a while and we wondered why…but now I know it is because of you and your men." Aram paused as he drank from his wooden cup. "And then two days ago, we were attacked! Completely caught unawares! They were not people of this land, my liege. They were different…speaking different languages, magicians of all races…so powerful that we were slaughtered before we even had a chance to resist them. And most frightening of all, there was a dragon…I have never seen one before…but there was no mistaking it. The black dragon ominously circled above the scene…not participating in the massacre and I shudder to think what would have happened if his power had combined with that of the magicians on foot."

Throughout Aram's speech, Arthur was frowning. This did not seem to be like Morgause's men at all…for they always took what was of value before they destroyed everything. But these sorcerers appeared to have killed without reason, simply for the sake of it. And another _dragon_…?

"How did you escape?" he questioned, his tone now more urgent.

"I heard screams in the middle of the night and I ran outside to see what was going on. But I was knocked over by a powerful spell…and I saw many of my friends lying beside me but they were all dead..." Aram's voice shook and he took a deep breath to steady himself. "And I was too frightened to get to my feet…so I stayed there. And even as I was trampled on by the magicians and my villagers alike, I did not move or dare to breathe." Aram wiped a tear from his eyes. "When I went back to my home, there was nothing left of it. Only charred remains and my family was…gone."

Arthur placed his hand on the man's shoulder, and squeezed it tightly, finding it hard to express the sympathy he felt for the farmer. "I am sorry for your loss. But you did a brave thing coming here. I promise you that your family did not give their lives in vain."

Aram did not say anything for a long time. Then, he said softly, "It is not just my village sire. On my journey to find you, I discovered that all the villages lying on the road to the city of Camelot have been attacked and there have been no survivors. It seems as though the attackers have been moving systematically."

Greatly troubled by this new piece of information, Arthur looked around at the trainees. He noted the looks on the faces of all the men around him – they were full of fear at this new enemy. His naïve army had just begun to feel like they would be able to conquer Morgause's magicians with the help of the new recruits that the knights were bringing in…they were all readying themselves for what they had been sure would be the final push. But now there was a new enemy that sheer numbers could not destroy…

Arthur stood up. "Take this man to Gaius and see that he gets treatment." Arthur knew he could not ignore this unforeseen problem for another moment. He wished that his knights were at his side, but there was no other choice. He would have to go himself and leave immediately…and besides, it was only a scouting mission. However, it _had_ to be done thoroughly. Their plans of defeating Morgause hinged on the identity of this new army and the threat that they posed…and Arthur was determined to find out who these people were and what their plans were.

"I am going to attempt to track these men and learn more about their capabilities before we decide what to do," Arthur said loudly. "Benedict and Martin, you shall come with me."

Martin, one of the trainees, jumped to attention and ran to Arthur's side while Benedict, who was one of the few magicians in Arthur's camp, looked a little surprised and remained where he was. At first there had been a lot of tension between the magicians and the villagers, since the villagers blamed magic for all their troubles…but now, being forced to work together, they were slowly growing to accept one another.

"Are you coming or not?" Arthur asked as he picked up his sword and sheathed it. "It's not like I can destroy a fire-breathing dragon on my own," he added with a wry smile.

Benedict laughed and exchanged a smirk with Martin as they followed Arthur's retreating back.

Arthur glanced around the tents, looking for Guinevere, but not seeing her, over his shoulder he said, "Tell Guinevere I shall be back by nightfall tomorrow."

Arthur squared his shoulders and dove into the forest, his companions close behind. Beneath his feet, he noticed that the snow was melting and saw the first blades of green grass. Finally the cold harshness of winter was melting away and change was coming…whether for good or bad.

* * *

Arthur was thrown roughly to the ground, left gasping for air, as the ropes tightened around his chest. He could see an enormous shadow of a winged creature circling above them…and though this did not surprise Arthur, the dragon's massive form filled him with a deep sense of trepidation. He could not see how he would be able to get out of this situation alive.

"We knew you were following us for hours…" the magician in front of him leered.

Arthur looked around desperately for his two companions, but he could not see them. He had had no intention of dying like this. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, almost as if it was trying to escape from his body before it was too late.

"But _why_ were you following us?" The question, spoken by another magician, was accompanied by a painful kick to Arthur's stomach.

Arthur fell forward, his nose inches from the slushy mud. In front of him, he saw the shadow of the dragon freeze. It had stopped circling suddenly, but now it grew larger as though it was…no, it couldn't be…lowering to the ground.

The magicians noted this as well and even _they_ stood paralyzed in fear.

Arthur could not lift his head, but he saw the shadow of the dragon transform – wings became arms, legs shortened, a scaly head receded…and all that remained was a shadow of a man. Arthur nearly gasped in amazement…How could _such_ a beast become a man?

_What kind of magic is this_, Arthur wondered in despair, still looking down – the ropes were too tight for him to straighten and look into this man's eyes.

And then the shadow took a step towards him.

"We meet again, Arthur Pendragon." His voice was smooth and without a trace of emotion.

Every step the shadow took forward, Arthur heard the magicians who had been encircling him sidle away. "How do you know who I am?" Arthur struggled to raise himself up. He saw the shadow's arm outstretch and miraculously, he did not have to fight any longer, as the ropes loosened from his body.

Still on his knees, Arthur slowly raised his head. He saw the outline of the dragon-man in front of him and as the man stepped out of the shadows, Arthur drew back.

It was at once clear to him that the man did not dwell in the beast; rather that the man _was _the beast.

From outward expressions, he had barely reached manhood – yet there was no vitality of youth in the lines of his face. His pitch-black hair fell into his eyes dangerously, forming a harsh contrast with his bloodless complexion. Tall, with a warrior-like build, he held a commanding aura in every step. Despite the cold, biting wind, he wore no cloak. His armour was like no other that Arthur had ever seen – it gave him the appearance of dragon scales on bare skin and it seemed to be as tough as the scales it was imitating. He wore no chainmail; his armour consisted only of black steel breastplates that left his muscular arms exposed. But the most terrifying feature of all, the feature which filled Arthur with a sense of dread, were his chilling blue eyes…they reminded him of another sorcerer he knew very well. Except in this man, the eyes mirrored a sea that was void of warmth.

His expression was unreadable as he slowly bent down to Arthur's level. "I thought you were dead," he said slowly, tilting his chin slightly. It seemed as though somewhere in his depths he was experiencing an emotion, but his face had forgotten how to convey it.

Arthur suddenly remembered that the ropes had completely fallen away and he leapt to his feet.

While no one around him moved a muscle, Arthur wildly glanced around looking for an escape route. However, the enemy's next unexpected words made Arthur stand rooted to the spot.

"My lord…my king, I have found you at last." The young man lowered his hand once more, while his head remained bowed, and suddenly all around them the magicians knelt as though pushed over by an invisible hand.

Arthur could not believe what he had just heard, _or _his eyes. He frowned in suspicion – was this part of their plan? Just minutes before he had been trapped by these magicians and now, they were bowing to him, proclaiming him to be their king?

None of the bowed heads in front of him moved a muscle even as seconds turned into minutes and Arthur realized that they were waiting for him to respond. "Why are you calling me that? Will your Queen Morgause not have your head?" Arthur questioned, sounding much more steadier than he felt.

A ghost of a smirk appeared on the man's face. "As if she could."

With a flourish, he dismissed the magicians around them and met Arthur's eyes directly. "I must be unrecognizable to you. Do you remember the Druid boy you once helped the Lady…Lady Morgana rescue? I am that very same boy…Mordred."

Arthur gasped in disbelief, but as Kilgharrah's warning flashed in his mind, his initial response of shock was quickly replaced by a frown.

Mordred chose not to react to Arthur's change in expression. Instead, he rose to his feet and folded his arms. The two men were now of equal stature and it was almost as though each man seemed to be daring the other to show what they were made of. Mordred's frosty eyes were unyielding in their gaze, and Arthur willed himself to maintain eye contact even though it was against his every instinct.

After a long silence, Mordred spoke carefully. "Now that I have discovered you are alive, my allegiance lies with you. I have been raised by the Druids and I know of the prophecies that declared you to be greatest ruler of this Isle. That is why I _humbly_…" Every particle of Mordred's being seemed to be contradicting that word spoken from his thin lips. "…That is why I offer my magic to help restore you to the throne that has been unfairly taken from you. What is Morgause but a mouse…compared to you, the lion, and me…the dragon."

Mordred looked quite pleased with himself, confident that it was only moments before Arthur would fall at his feet in gratitude.

Arthur, however, was appalled at this man's sudden change in loyalties, He responded coldly to Mordred's offer. "And if the dragon can turn on the mouse, how long will it take for the dragon to turn on the lion?" Arthur shook his head in confusion at Mordred's superficial bid to help him. "You could crush us both...Morgause and I with one stroke. What is it you really want, Mordred?"

Mordred flamboyantly bowed without missing a beat. "I only wish to serve you." He straightened back up and said with a slight smile, if it could be called a smile, "The Lady Morgana has always wished to see you become King. She was heartbroken when she thought you were dead…and she will be pleased to see you return by my side. Whatever pleases the Lady Morgana…pleases me…"

Arthur raised his eyebrows in bewilderment. Mordred was now speaking of Morgana as if she was the crown jewel and as far as Arthur knew, Mordred had only seen her _once _and that too when he was twelve! Arthur regretfully realized that perhaps even Mordred knew her better than he did.

"I had no idea that you and the Lady Morgana shared such a bond." There was a trace of sarcasm in Arthur's voice but Mordred was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care. "Morgana has chosen a very powerful ally indeed," Arthur added shortly.

"As have you, my lord." Without a pause, Mordred transformed from a contemplative young man to a warrior. He began to circle Arthur, rattling off his own strategy to usurp the throne from his former benefactor.

Arthur's head began to spin as he struggled to keep Mordred in his peripheral vision.

"…Meet with the knights…they will be of some value to us…use the griffons to breach the castle walls…trusted magicians on my side will neutralize Morgause's weaklings…even Morgause's men are not her own, I have spies everywhere…"

Then suddenly remembering that Arthur himself was a non-magic leader, Mordred declared, feeling that he was being most considerate, "Even the non-magic can aid our cause by transporting the weapons and…making food."

Arthur felt light-headed. He could not believe that Mordred was on one hand circling him as a predator might, and on the other hand, was offering Arthur an assured victory.

"…and _I_ shall take care of Morgause for you. Her magic is no match for mine. After the battle is done, I shall be at your side as the most trusted magician of the Great King. We shall be brothers…" Mordred paused for effect, "…in more ways than one."

"Sorry…but there is only one I trust at my side as my brother," said Arthur, cutting Mordred off before he could say more.

The young sorcerer turned sharply and for the briefest of moments, his stone-faced expression gave way to an inhuman snarl.

"You have already made my people suffer," Arthur said loudly, once again not giving Mordred a chance to reply. "What makes you think that I would ever trust you?" Arthur had indulged his curiosity enough. He wanted to reject this man's every proposal definitively even if it became his last act. He knew Mordred would not spare him after this; yet, Arthur could never align himself with someone who had sown so much of pain, suffering and fear among his people.

It was not Arthur's wish to commit suicide by aggravating this man; neither did he desire to leave his people in Mordred's mercy for he would have none…but he knew that with a man like Mordred there was no middle ground. And either way, he would die at this sorcerer's hands…either now, rejecting Mordred's help on his terms or later, after Mordred had sucked his blood like a leech and left him to rot.

Mordred remained silent, his expression unfeeling.

Arthur's voice grew more challenging. "I want nothing to do with you! If I ever am able to rebuild this kingdom, it shall be beside the man that I, in my foolishness, cast aside in fear of his magic. But I have come to realize that he is only one I will gladly have restore magic to the kingdom…for he is a good, kind, hardworking soul. Ideally, it should be he and I who are brothers…but instead, Merlin shares blood with _you_!"

Mordred's face changed from neutral to livid in an instant. "You lie," he shouted as his body shook with rage. The trees around them began to shake in trembling anger. Mordred had never been able to truly control his emotions, though outwardly he appeared to be a man of the world. This accusation, for that was what it seemed to Mordred, coming from Arthur…could it be true? He spat on the ground, refusing to believe himself as associated with the coward that had attempted to destroy Morgana's life. But…was this the reason why he, as a young druid boy, had been able to instinctively communicate in Merlin's head, without any prior establishment of eye contact, time and place? Were they related? It made sense considering their initial connection that…

"NO!" Mordred bellowed.

"You didn't know?" Arthur said in a tone most unlike his own, goading Mordred. He knew that his every word would only further instigate Mordred's anger but he didn't care. "I am proud to align myself with the better brother…the better friend and the better man." He was enjoying himself in a perverse way…that he had a power and a knowledge that Mordred didn't.

Mordred roared in fury and the shaking of the trees became even more violent. He opened his mouth to yell yet again, but instead of words it was flames that burst forth from his mouth. Arthur instinctively leapt away and rolled from the fire that had suddenly appeared at his feet.

Arthur watched as black scales erupted on Mordred's body, and the wrathful young sorcerer shot up, growing into his great and terrible form.

Amidst the flames and commotion – the sounds of magicians rushing towards the forest towards the pair – Arthur could discern Mordred's spiteful voice thundering. "You dare to refuse my offer…Arthur Pendragon? I shall be the one to end your life…how will you bear to die knowing that your everything will be mine!"

Before Arthur could move, Mordred's claw pinned him harshly to the ground and his talons tightened around the defenseless man's neck. Time seemed to slow down as Arthur gasped for air. He knew that Mordred would want to make his death painful and drawn out, but it was not in Arthur to give up. He struggled to break free of the dragon's grip; his muscles, however, were growing far too weak.

The once undefeated champion had been pinned underneath many a shield, but this time surely he would not be able to find a way to rise up again…

His head was reeling with images as his vision blurred…he knew that the end was near for him. Finally...Arthur stopped trying to resist.

The dragon's snout before him was fading and being replaced by the expectant faces of his people. He knew that he had failed them…in the past few months, he had fought for them and gained back his self-respect, but in reality, he had nothing tangible to leave behind for his people. Kilgharrah had spoken of a legacy, that now would never amount to anything more than a shattered dream.

The young Pendragon took one last shaky breath and closed his eyes, hearing flapping of wings in the distance.

As he felt Mordred's grip tighten even more around his throat, with malice, Guinevere's sweet face flashed in his mind before everything faded into darkness.

This was the end.


	18. Chapter 17

**So many paths that wind and wind… **

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: Hear ye, hear ye - new chapitre time! Somehow, as always, we feel this need to explain our lateness apologetically to you all. But this time, we shall not apologize, NO! For this one took a while due to a strange phenomenon the other side of the coin and I have recently discovered, called "writer's block", followed by what we now know to be "magical unspeakables". While studying medicine in blocks can be a positive experience...let me tell you all, writer's block is NEVER a pleasant experience. It is filled with the longing to write about the feelings of wonder, misery, obliviousness of your favourite characters, but not being able to express them in the wonderful English language. Then suddenly, a beautiful, magical thing happens - like the fairy godmother just raised her wand over you (Bippity Boppity Boo!) or Peter Pan/Tinkerbell sprinkled you with fairy dust. And writing begins to pour out of you, from all orifices. And believe me, there are a lot of orifices. _

_Now that you know the background of this magical chapter, you can either see it as the blessings of the gods, meaning that it is your obligation (as a form of prayer) to review, or as an appreciation for how the magic of Disney can leak into real life, in which case a review would go a long way to gain the favour of Flora, Fauna & Merryweather. _

_With many fond wishes of love, we present..."the chapter blessed by the gods themselves" (hee hee inside joke, to my twin!). _

* * *

**Chapter 17**

"It needs but one foe to breed a war, and those who have not swords can still die upon them."

~ J.R.R Tolkein

* * *

It was becoming difficult to see through the swirls of smoke and blazing flames around the giant beasts. Below, the army of magician-soldiers began to disperse, coughing and sputtering, to escape the burning forest.

The black dragon swiped at its circling foe, Kilgharrah, but missed by inches; in retaliation, the Great Dragon, sent a wave of fire in the direction of his vicious opponent.

Even in his dragon form, Mordred inwardly scoffed at the old dragon's feeble attempt to injure him. He dived to avoid the flames and opened his scaly snout to speak, his voice resounding in the woods. "You are getting too old, Great Dragon. You will perish…just like the one you came to protect." Mordred's eyes flickered to the still figure of the man he had just strangled to death…the man who was supposed to be the future king.

He could just make out through his blurred vision the unmoving figure of Arthur on the ground below; just as he had squeezed Arthur's life slowly out of him, a new quarry had presented itself to him – the Great Dragon. Kilgharrah had unexpectedly roared into the clearing above Mordred and had wrenched him away from Arthur with all his might. Once Mordred had oriented himself to this attack, however, it was evident that even a legendary creature such as Kilgharrah was nothing compared to the power and strength that Mordred possessed.

Mordred would show no mercy to those who united themselves with Arthur. He had given Arthur a chance…a chance to accept his aid – but Arthur had rejected his help and wounded his pride. For that, every one of Arthur's allies would suffer at Mordred's hands.

Without the old dragon's knowledge, Mordred snuck up behind him and lashed out. Kilgharrah roared in fury and pain as he felt spikes from Mordred's tail pierce his thick armour. He crashed into a clump of nearby trees, not able to withstand the force of Mordred's blow. A few of Mordred's army who had been brave enough to remain on the scene had been watching in utter fear. But most of the magicians had now almost entirely disappeared from the scene. The few that had stayed on now fled in different directions into the forest, shouting in hoarse voices, as branches rained down on them.

Kilgharrah glanced down, yet again, at the only remaining human form left in the clearing; the figure was still as still as death itself. His original concern was now replaced by dread…had he arrived too late to save his charge?

"Have you no qualms, boy? By meddling in the dark magic of dragon lore, you have brought shame to our noble kind." Kilgharrah's tone was bitter as blood gushed from his torn wing. "I am glad your father never knew you…for today he would have been ashamed to call you his son!" Using Mordred's momentary hesitation upon hearing of his father as a welcome distraction, Kilgharrah latched onto Mordred's hind leg with his jaw and threw him to one side with all his might.

Reeling, Mordred turned in mid-air and bellowed, "You know NOTHING of my father! You know nothing of my family!" Mordred's blood always boiled at thought of the injustice of his childhood, for in his mind, he had concluded that his parents had been forced to abandon him. For years, he had been passed on from guardian to guardian among the Druids – always taken care of, but never loved. Until he had met Morgana…

Fuelled by the thought of returning to her, he charged into the old dragon, crashing into his already weakened body. Breathing heavily, Kilgharrah struggled to stay in the air, his one intact wing flapping furiously. "I know more of your family than you do, boy. You inherited the gift of dragon-lord magic from your father, Balinor, but you have abused this gift without any scruples. You have turned a member of your kin, your brother, into a puppet for your selfish means. You have condemned the dragon from the egg you found to a life of enslavement."

Kilgharrah could not sense even a flickering of the original dragon's soul within Mordred. He had strangled the noble creature and possessed him to the point where the separation between dragon and Mordred were indiscernible…there was no dragon; it was all Mordred.

Mordred's gleaming eyes narrowed and he deliberately backed away from attacking, and began to circle Kilgharrah, while waiting impatiently for the Great Dragon to speak.

Kilgharrah knew that he had captured Mordred's attention for a short span of time, and so decided to land on the ground to give his weary body a rest. "Yes, you were deprived of a father's love, but could his empty presence in your life have filled that void in your heart? I fear not. For Balinor's heart rested not with your mother, but with Hunith." The old dragon raised his neck to look up at the circling dragon, trying to see through the billowing clouds of ashes around him.

"Hunith!" Mordred snarled, baring his teeth in anger. "Who is this woman who robbed me of my mother, my father and my chance at a normal life?"

Feeling a little more in control of his body, as some of his strength had returned, Kilgharrah snorted. "You _would_ have had a chance at normal life. You have a half-brother who _would_ have accepted you with open arms for he too always longed for a connection with his father…but you have shrouded yourself in darkness, Mordred, and I fear now there is no one remaining that can bring you back into the light…not even the last of your kin…not even Merlin."

"RAAAAAAAAAAGRH!" Mordred roared, so livid that he thought he would burst with emotion. To be related by blood to the man he despised more than everything he loved…it could not be borne – it would not be borne! Mordred felt tainted – disgusted – that he shared blood with such a cowardly creature. To hear those words coming first from Arthur's lips and then from the Great Dragon…he had believed for so long that he was special – that his parents had been extraordinary. But now to know that he really _was_ the unwanted bastard child, abandoned, as always…

The Great Dragon below ignored Mordred's menacing cry. While Mordred possessed more brute strength than Kilgharrah did, the aged dragon knew that his words were wounding Mordred as much as mighty blows. "Your brother Merlin is far nobler than I. I warned him about you long ago. I told him to let you die…but his nobility could not allow him that atrocity, for which I commend his spirit, though he may, nay, _is _paying for it. Merlin is a true Dragonlord…he is my brother, not a parasite like what you have become!" Kilgharrah paused, but not hearing a response from Mordred, he continued. "Our souls are tied together, but with the pure bond of fellowship."

Mordred had had enough. He had indulged Morgause – crossed the seven seas to fetch an army for her. Now, he would do exactly what _he _wished. And he wanted nothing more than to destroy every last trace of Merlin's existence…Merlin's soul.

Before he could anticipate it and move out of the way, Kilgharrah watched Mordred's form appear through the swirling smoke. The swooping shadow whipped towards him at an alarming pace. With open claws that lacked any shred of mercy, Mordred tore at every inch of Kilgharrah's scales. Unable to defend himself, Kilgharrah thrashed around the clearing in pain.

The elderly, wise Great Dragon was being massacred by a vicious beast, and not a soul was present to witness the sad end of this glorious creature. The ancient forest around the dragons burnt around them; but Kilgharrah was as helpless against the savageness of his opponent as nature was against the unrelenting flames. Mordred did not yield even for a moment – when his claws gave out, he hacked at Kilgharrah with his fangs. The old dragon screeched in agony, but in vain.

At last, with one final burst of strength, Kilgharrah called upon on his ancestors.

He reared his once-proud and mighty head and released a torrent of flames at Mordred. The black dragon was not able to get out of the way fast enough. His face caught fire and Mordred howled at the unexpected singeing to his face. His scorched flesh stung with more pain than he had ever experienced in his short life; incapable of tolerating the tormenting wound, he took off abruptly, leaving the Great Dragon behind him to die a tortuous death in his wake.

Kilgharrah collapsed heavily, the ground trembling beneath his weight. He lay there, not knowing how long, as blood and life slowly but surely escaped his body. He almost wished he had been a weaker being, so that his death would at least have been swift.

He tossed and turned in anguish, his life flashing before his eyes, sorry that it had all come to this. His predecessors had entrusted in Kilgharrah to carry on the lineage of the Old Religion. He did not know how he would face his ancestors with the news that he had left this great land defenseless, without a King.

His eyes flickered to where he knew Arthur's body lay…and the Great Dragon took a sharp breath in, his ribs shuddering with effort. The body of the once and future King had disappeared. Perhaps his eyes were failing him…

"Kilgharrah, what has happened to you?" The dragon heard a stunned, faltering voice near his head and he turned to face the source.

Kilgharrah's pain was momentarily blunted as relief flooded through his body. A disoriented man stood before his eyes, his body disheveled and his face shocked; his steps towards the dying dragon were shaky…but he was very much alive.

In a soft voice, the dragon spoke. "I have failed you…Arthur Pendragon." His voice rattled as he spoke slowly, breaths coming out in wheezes. "I have failed Merlin. I can no longer protect you."

Moved by the sight of this great beast lying helpless and mangled on the ground, Arthur feel to his knees, his eyes welling with tears. He wiped a trickle of blood away from Kilgharrah's eyes with his sleeve. "It is not you who have failed me. I have failed you…"

Arthur looked away, his head bowed.

"No, Arthur…" The dragon struggled to form his next words, his mystical voice now weak and cracking with effort. "It is not over yet. It is time. You must return to Camelot without delay, for that is surely where Mordred is headed…Albion now truly lies in your hands…It is your duty to keep the hope alive for people who still believe in the inherent goodness of this land's destiny."

"But how will I do this without you? How can I hope to face Mordred without your help?" All the confidence that Arthur had gained in the last few months seemed to melt away as he was reduced to tears. Kilgharrah had been his counselor, his connection to the Old Religion…what hope did he have against Morgause, Mordred _and _their army when the Great Dragon, who was so wise and strong, had been defeated so ferociously by one man?

"One who walks with valour, justice and mercy will never be alone. Do not be a slave to your fate, Arthur Pendragon; master it."

Hearing Kilgharrah's feeble voice, Arthur felt unusually disconnected from his body. He knew the dragon was imparting him with precious wisdom, and he vowed to remember the wise being's words for as long as he lived; even in his disoriented state, he knew what the dragon was trying to tell him. It was time to return home – not his makeshift camp – but the only place that had been his home ever since he had been born. The city that he had thought about every night since he had left it, the palace walls which had sheltered him in his childhood, the nearby forests where he had learnt to hunt, the Great Hall where he had been knighted…

Wiping his eyes, Arthur shuffled closer to Kilgharrah and placed his hand over the dragon's heart. Arthur would never forget that Kilgharrah, with his wisdom, had brought him back from the lowest point in his life and now, the dragon had brought Arthur back from the jaws of death itself by sacrificing his own life.

"I will never forget what you have done for me…for this kingdom."

"And I will never forget you…King Arthur."

Kilgharrah looked upon the bowed, golden head once final time before closing his eyelids. Drawing his final breath, he reached out to the last of his kind…

* * *

Merlin suddenly stopped in his tracks on the way to the servant quarters.

His feet moved of their own volition as he turned abruptly and began slowly walking to the dungeons. His whole skin erupted in goose bumps as he mechanically reached for the burning torch and headed down a flight of stairs he had not descended down in a long time. Reaching the foot of the stairs, he followed the winding cave into the dragon's old lair. He was not sure what he had expected to see, but it was as empty as his mind felt at the moment.

Not knowing exactly why, he laid the torch beside him, sat down on familiar ledge, and began to silently cry.

* * *

Atop the tallest tree, a human figure sat perched upon a branch overlooking the horizon of the setting sun. His back was deliberately turned away from the city of Camelot in the distance; instead he was gazing with vengeful intent in the opposite direction.

He heard rustling beneath him and in response, he jumped without fear, his cape billowing behind him as he landed cat-like on his feet.

Mordred almost held up a dagger to the intruder at the foot of the tree, but then realized it was one of his own.

The man jumped and quickly began to speak in a quivering voice. "My lord, I am sorry to have startled you! We followed you here…You have single-handedly destroyed Arthur and the Great Dragon…What are your orders for us now?" The soldier tried to read his leader's face, but Mordred had half his face turned away from him, and his expression was unreadable.

The rest of Mordred's men were gathered in the shadows around them, hesitantly awaiting further commands.

The soldier again bravely attempted, "To Camelot we continue to march?"

Mordred turned abruptly, his face contorted in a snarl. The soldier gasped in horror at his commander's face, for though one side was as handsome and terrible as ever, the other side of his face now bore a terrible burn, still black and rotting. The scar stretched from the corner of his eye to his mouth and gave Mordred the appearance of a man who had been to hell and back.

In fury at his man's response to his face, Mordred pulled out his dagger and without hesitation ran the unsuspecting soldier through with his blade. As the magician's body fell at his feet, he looked around at the rest of his company, all of whom were paralyzed in fear. He challenged them all with his flashing eyes to say something about what surely would become a disfiguring scar, but nobody met his eyes, or spoke a word.

Satisfied, Mordred said in his most deadly voice, "You will make for the fields of Camlann. Prepare for battle and await my arrival."

A man near the back of the crowd squeaked. "But…but, what about you…Sir Mordred?"

"My path lies in a different direction."


	19. Chapter 18

**So many paths that wind and wind...**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: To change things up a bit, we thought perhaps the readers would enjoy some sophisticated poetry._

_Yahoo, a new chapter you say,_

_Yes, today is indeed a bright and lovely day._

_Now, we have plenty of excuses to say why_

_This chapter took so long for us to complete, but we don't want you to cry (seriously, the excuses are really quite boring)._

_However, rest assured that the plot from here on in simply whizzes by,_

_And before you know it we'll be saying our final goodbye._

_But alas, before that, we have to tell you something not-so-good,_

_Over the summer one of us is travelling to the land of Bollywood,_

_While the other to the home of Robin Hood._

_While this is exciting news for us, we're afraid it's rather tiresome for you lot,_

_Since we wont be able to update this story for a while - but fear not! (We'll get to it as soon as we are on the same Continent again, we promise)._

_Anyway, we hope that since we broke this news in poetry form that we are forgiven. We just wanted to let you know that it will be at least mid-August before a new chapter update. We're reallyyyy sorry about this *puppy dog eyes*. In the meantime, we hope you enjoy this chapter since it sets up the finale (oooo) and we sincerely thank you for following this story all these months. We hope that you do keep reading once we start updating again! As always, suggestions and reviews are always welcome, especially more now than ever because we're extra-motivated to finish the story since we are so close to the end and your encouragement will propel us there even faster! :)_

* * *

**Chapter 18**

"The fate of the world will now be decided."

~ Lord of the Rings

* * *

"Is it ready?"

The jeweler, with shaking hands, brought the carefully-wrapped package forward towards the hooded figure. He placed it in the outstretched hands of the stranger who cradled it and unraveled the silk wrappings to reveal the oblong shaped crystal carving.

It was the strangest request the jeweler had ever received but he had fulfilled it, for money was hard to come by in these dangerous times, and he had been more than well compensated for his troubles and his discretion.

Tucking the object into folds of rich clothing, the stranger nodded in satisfaction at the hunchbacked jeweler.

The mysterious figure glided away, but then paused at the door. "This means more than you may ever know or understand. You have done a great service to your people."

* * *

The lady moved noiselessly down the corridor, her borrowed cloak flowing behind her. It was well past midnight and the castle was quiet. Luckily for Morgana, the patrol was nowhere to be seen. She purposefully made her way to the magician's quarters with stealth, taking the winding passages to the area that she had rarely visited before.

She paused when she reached the main hallway with doors leading off in both directions. Cautiously, Morgana ventured forward, knowing that one false move would derail all her plans. She knew exactly which door to enter, having paid her maidservant earlier, to discover where her target lay.

Pausing at the fifth door on the left, she placed her hand on the door, preparing to knock softly, but to her surprise the door gave way. She nearly fell forward as the door creaked open and hurriedly she shut it behind her quietly, bolting it.

She heard the sound of someone jumping out of bed with urgency and her heart skipped a beat.

"Who is it?" His voice was rough with sleep.

"It's Morgana," she breathed, taking a step forward towards the voice.

She nearly jumped in surprise when a flame suddenly flickered to life in the room; light illuminated the space around them and her eyes widened when she realized that he was holding the flame in his palm.

He was as himself, and yet not. The lines of his face were sharper than she remembered…perhaps it was the dim lighting. He looked older somehow, more weary with life. She caught a momentary look of surprise in his eyes and she was a little relieved to see that it was not a hostile gaze; however, almost immediately a curtain was drawn over his face, leaving his expression blank.

He walked to the nearby candle, wearing an old white nightshirt that was far too large for his thin frame. He dropped the flame casually from his palm onto the candle and without turning around, he spoke. "My lady, what brings you here this time of night? If you needed something, you could have summoned me." His tone was exceedingly formal.

"Merlin…you know that you don't need to use all these formalities." She slipped off her hood.

He glanced at her face for a brief instant - then as though he could not bear to look at her for too long, he quickly averted his eyes before retorting, "Oh, but I do…you, my lady, are the Queen's sister and I…I am but the same servant I have always been." As he said this, he faced her again, crossing his arms over his shirt defiantly.

For a moment, at a loss for words, she just stared at her once trusted friend. He was still not meeting her eyes directly…instead, he was staring at a spot slightly above her head. His pale neck was exposed and she saw a string tied around his neck; her eyes traveled down to the amulet glinting on his chest.

Swallowing a little nervously, she asked, "What is the Druid symbol you wear around your neck?"

Finally, he met her eyes and there was a hint of a smirk when he replied. "Morgana…we both know you did not come here in the middle of the night to talk about my amulet. Why are you really here?" He sighed impatiently as though he had other things on his mind.

Morgana was caught a little off-guard by his aloof behaviour. She had thought that after their last emotionally charged meeting that she had left their relationship on _her _terms, but once again she was powerless in his presence. She shook herself, remembering why she had come…

"You are right. I am sorry to have woken you…" Morgana tried to keep her tone cordial, to match his formality, though her irritation was rising.

Merlin interrupted her. "I was not able to sleep properly anyway." He walked to the low bed and sat down, looking up at her with a hint of agitation.

His impatient gaze jolted her back to her senses. Morgana did not want to spend any more time with him than he did with her, and knew she had to speak her mind in a proper manner before her anger bubbled to the surface. And if she let her anger get the better of her, all her work would be for nothing.

Regaining her pride, haughtily she began, "I came because ever since we last spoke, my head has been reeling with questions, and I can no longer ignore them or you because I care too much about the future of our land…and about Arthur. Right now Camelot is suffering because of _all_ of our past actions; the present is filled with people acting only for their personal gain. Everybody I have ever known has been like that…except you. Why are _you_ doing this?"

Merlin sighed. "I thought I had already answered this question. I'm doing this for Arthur."

"No…no you are not." Morgana shook her head. "It's not possible for one person to be _so_ selfless, for your whole existence to be based upon one man's future…no matter how great he may be." Morgana spoke in a very accusatory voice, her patience snapping.

Merlin snapped back, just as quickly. "Yes, you're right Morgana. It's _not _possible." He caught himself and paused, calming down before he spoke again. He sighed, attempting to explain the complexities he sometimes felt she never fully understood. "I have seen good; I have seen evil. I have seen darkness in the light of day and hope in the dark of night. I have seen loss…I _have _lost." Here Merlin paused and closed his eyes tightly.

Only this afternoon he had grieved over what he knew to be the demise of his kin…Kilgharrah the Great Dragon. It seemed to him that he was becoming more and more alone as time passed. He began speaking again softly, more to himself now than to Morgana. "I have loved and I have hated. Worst of all, I have brought death to the doorsteps of many…but to others, I have brought life anew." Merlin took a shaky breath. "Morgana, I'm exhausted…It's a burden…to have the power of life and death and yet be bound to life. But that is my destiny, and it is so heavy a burden I would not wish it on anyone else."

Standing up, he gazed down at her with a deep wisdom radiating from his person. "And that is why I am doing this. Why I _must _do this."

Inexplicably, Morgana internally felt drawn to his aura. He was different from everyone she knew and she couldn't believe that someone could be so extraordinary and still remain so detached. Yet, looking at the man before her, she somehow accepted it without question. Without realizing it she took a step forward, as though he were a magnet pulling her in, but feeling the heat rise in her cheeks she moved back abruptly.

Feeling slightly flustered, she tried to redirect and regain control of the conversation. "I can help you." She reached inside her cloak to hand him the object, but Merlin had already begun pacing.

He cut her off abruptly. "There is nothing you or anyone can do, Morgana. The Great Dragon, my biggest ally, is dead. I cannot defeat all these magicians without his help. And the worst part is…I am almost certain that it was _Mordred_, your _dearest _Mordred who committed this atrocious crime of ending Kilgharrah's life."

Affronted, Morgana dropped the object back into the folds on her cloak. "How dare you! Mordred is only a child. Why would you accuse him of such a thing?" Her voice was slightly raised.

Merlin laughed, slightly maniacally. "Oh Morgana, how blinded you are! There is a reason why he is Morgause's most feared knight."

Morgana shook her head, almost not wanting to believe a word Merlin said. "You don't understand, Merlin. I haven't been able to talk to him recently...But I _know _that if I spoke with him, he would support Arthur fully. He would never harm a hair on Arthur's head."

Merlin stared at Morgana in complete disbelief. He made up his mind not to argue though his every fiber within him was protesting. Pursing his lips, he sat back down with a thud. "One day you will see the truth of my words, Morgana, and I can only hope it does not break you. Now - if you have anything else to say, then say it. Otherwise, leave before Morgause catches you here."

Morgana's eyes flashed, grateful at least that her momentary lapse of judgment where she had been mesmerized by him had not led her to do something rash like actually help him. She was ready to stride out. "Since you have _no _need of my assistance, I will leave you to your sleep. Good night."

Morgana turned to the door, but the better part of her made her pause and face Merlin once more. His shoulders were hunched and his head was bowed. She had never seen him look so defeated, so helpless, so vulnerable.

Merlin's mind was racing, already forgetting Morgana's presence. Kilgharrah's final words to him reverberated in his mind: _Arthur is coming. Prepare for his arrival_. But how? Merlin had no clue what to do…

Morgana bit her lip. Merlin wasn't the only one who could be selfless. She walked towards him, pulling out of her cloak an object wrapped in silk. She unraveled the crystal and held it out to him. The Crystal of Neathid glimmered in the half-lit room.

He looked up at her in shock. "How did you…where…?"

She explained quickly. "I exchanged the original for a copy I had made. Morgause told me that this can be used to enhance the magic of the limited few who are able to yield it. I cannot, but perhaps you can find a use for it."

"Morgana…" Merlin was speechless. "Do you…do you know what this means? I had forgotten all about the crystal! This changes everything…do you know how much this could change the course of the war? Arthur is on his way to Camelot - this could turn the tide in our favour!"

Morgana's eyes lit up at this new information. "Arthur is coming? When? Does this mean the final push will be here soon?"

"He will arrive any day now." Merlin's eyes were focused on the crystal and he suddenly grasped Morgana's wrist and stood up, pulling her towards him slightly. His voice became quieter. "Do you understand, Morgana, that by giving this to me you are aligning yourself with Arthur and against your sister? Are you sure you want to do this?"

Morgana looked up into his blue eyes, which were darker than normal and filled with concern. She dropped the crystal into his free hand without saying a word.

As soon as the crystal touched Merlin's skin, a crackle of power traveled through his veins. He took deep breaths, trying to absorb the pulsating magical energy in his hands.

Before Morgana had time to realize that the bolt on the door was being unfastened by magic from the outside, Merlin had transformed into Nilrhoem instantaneously. She instinctively almost turned her head towards the door to see who the intruder was, but Merlin pulled on her wrist, making her face him, the back of her head still to the door.

"What is the meaning of this?" Nilrhoem questioned in his deep accented voice, speaking over her head.

"Nothing, nothing at all. I heard voices, and I see you have a visitor…a _lady _guest."

Morgana could sense the suggestive tone in the stranger's voice and felt the leering gaze of his eyes pierce her back. She shuddered in disgust, and at the same time looked up, seeing Merlin's eyes narrow.

"Why don't you leave us and return to your room?" Nilrhoem said coldly.

The intruder responded immediately. "Maybe when you are finished, you can send her next door." He laughed boldly; not noticing that the lady he was alluding to was seething with anger.

Morgana shifted impatiently, about to face the man and reveal her true identity to him in order to make him suffer for his impudence, but Merlin tightened his grip on her wrist.

Nilrhoem responded evenly, but with an undercurrent of authority. "Come near her, and I swear to the gods I will end you."

There was silence in the room and Merlin's threat hung in the air.

The lewd man cowered back into the shadowed corner, his head lowered in shame. Nilrhoem pulled Morgana's hood over her face and with one hand on her back, led her past the magician at the door.

Morgana could not resist, however, and on her way out she stomped on the man's foot as hard as she could.

They both remained quiet, but when they reached the end of the hallway, Nilrhoem could not help but give a small smile, and letting go of her gently he whispered, "Thank you."

* * *

Elaine could hardly contain her excitement as she skipped alongside Gwen as they headed to the makeshift kitchen tent.

Guinevere grabbed her friend's arm. "Quiet down! I don't want anybody to find out… we're two days away from reaching Camelot and this is not the time to fuss over such matters," Gwen said matter-of-factly. Though on the inside her heart was aflutter with joy, she knew that there were more pressing matters to attend to.

"I can't help it…this is such wonderful news! I knew the moment Gaius examined you that this would be the best thing that has happened to you…and to all of us." Elaine's eyes were brighter even than usual - her very obvious elation was impossible to conceal.

They reached the kitchen and Gwen shook out the apron to tie around her waist, but Elaine took the apron strings from her friend and fastened them behind her lovingly. There were a number of ladies bustling around preparing the evening meal, and so no one paid any extra attention to Guinevere or Elaine. They were all going about their duties much more silently than usual. Being this close to Camelot, no one could talk or think of anything but the upcoming war they had _all_ been training for. The atmosphere was tense, and yet still...hopeful.

Gwen sighed, resigning herself to her fate, and picked up a sack of potatoes. Removing one from the sack, she began to scrape away the skin as she whispered to Elaine. "The future of Camelot will be decided in the next few weeks. We don't know the outcome of this war and Morgause will surely not surrender quietly. Our sole focus should be on the common goal of bringing peace and prosperity back to Camelot, not…me." She didn't know if she was trying to convince Elaine, or herself.

Elaine took Gwen by the shoulders and shook her slightly. "Gwen, my dearest friend, you speak of the future of this kingdom, but don't you understand? _You _are the one truly carrying the future of Camelot!"

Gwen smiled sadly at her friend, but did not reply to her, gathering her own courage to do what she knew to be right – protect her husband and the interests of her people.

Finally, she turned back to the potatoes; she knew what she had to do and though Elaine was trying to help, she didn't expect her or anyone else to understand. "Elaine, fetch me some water from the river," Gwen said, in a tone that indicated the discussion was over…

…Guinevere approached the fire feeling exhausted and slightly nauseous after the day's work, though it had not been strenuous by any means, now that so many hands were present. She was not surprised for Gaius had assured her that this was perfectly normal in her condition. Arthur and the knights had gathered around the main fire for the evening meal and the food had already been brought in steaming pots. Around the large fire, smaller circles had formed with the villagers from different places, and they were already chewing hungrily, discussing their hopes and fears with friends, old and new.

The knights, however, were all waiting for her. It had become a tradition; every night, the food remained untouched until Gwen served the first plate to the youngest knight, Sir Coulton.

But tonight, before she could pick up a plate, Gareth and Coulton hurriedly each grabbed an arm and led her to her seat by the fire next to Arthur. Leon meanwhile rushed forward with a plate of steaming potato broth and gently lowered it onto Gwen's lap. And to top it all off, to her complete astonishment, behind her she felt a blanket being placed over her shoulder and looked up to see Lancelot grinning down at her happily. Gwen's suspicions arose and her eyes immediately darted to where Elaine was standing across the fire with an impish grin. The cheeky smile disappeared the moment her eyes met Gwen's.

Gwen sent her a glare that would have frightened many a soul, but Elaine could only smile guilty.

The flush on Gwen's face got deeper and deeper, as she realized that _everyone_ was staring expectantly at her waiting for her to acknowledge the good news. She could feel Arthur's eyes on her as well, but she did not know how to face him. Gwen knew that under ordinary circumstances, this news would be celebrated with great joy, but with the war looming it felt as though informing Arthur would only burden him more.

Finally, when she could no longer avoid his gaze, Gwen met Arthur's eyes. He was frowning in confusion, sitting next to her wondering why he had never experienced this degree of kindness from his knights. After all, his plate was still empty…

"What is going on," he asked, in a bewildered tone.

It dawned upon the knights that their Prince was not privy to the information that they were all aware of. In fact, Arthur had been extremely puzzled the entire afternoon, as randomly in the midst of training, one or the other of his men would come up and thump him on the back with a grin of manly pride.

"It's nothing," Gwen said, wide-eyed. She sent all the knights and Elaine a warning glare.

Elaine stuck her tongue out in reply.

"No…there is definitely something you are not telling me. I know your influence has transformed my once-ferocious knights into quilt-making gentlemen…" They all smiled, and Gwen shook her head. "Not that there is anything wrong with that," Arthur added hastily, "but this is unusual behaviour even for these pansies!" Arthur looked at his men with genuine amusement.

Taking pity on her husband, and borrowing some courage from her friend, Gwen whispered a silent prayer, hoping that she was doing the right thing. She put her plate down and turned to face him. "Arthur…there _is_ something you need to know…and I _am_ sorry you are the last to know; you should have been the first."

She gave another pointed look at Elaine, but could not scold her friend with her gaze for too long. Gaius too had just appeared on the scene and he gave Gwen an encouraging nod.

Arthur frowned, but remained silent.

"Sometimes…we don't plan for things, but they happen…due to forces beyond our control…" Gwen fumbled, feeling yet again like the old Guinevere, not knowing how he would react to this news since they had never discussed future plans, beyond gaining back the kingdom, in great detail. "I didn't want to burden you with this before the battle, especially because I didn't want this information to change your plans."

"I don't know what you are talking about…is it…something to do with Morgause? The battle? Have you heard bad news?" Arthur looked at her with concern, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"No, no! It's wonderful news…just…at a slightly bad time?" There was a question in her voice for the last bit, as she knew, and rightly so, that there would never be a perfect time in their lives – though the war probably wasn't the best of times…

"This must mean Morgause is up to something," Arthur concluded. He nodded somberly, trying to look knowledgeable to his knights, though he still did not feel enlightened in any way.

"No, Arthur!" Gwen jumped to her feet. "It's a baby!"

"Morgause is having a baby?"

The knights looked at Arthur in complete disbelief, torn between laughter and concern for the mental sanity of their lady in dealing with such a husband.

"Not Morgause! Me! I'm having a baby," Gwen exclaimed, exasperated.

Arthur's eyes were as round as saucers. He looked up at her in shock. "How… how?"

Gwen knelt down at his level and took his hands in hers. "Do you really want me to explain that, Arthur?" A glimmer of a smile darted across her face.

Slowly, a matching wide smile spread across Arthur's face.

* * *

"I told you, Morgause! I have no idea where it is. I have not laid eyes on the crystal since you took me down there." Morgana's eyes blazed into her sister's. Finally, she felt like herself again, not a controlled puppet.

Morgause had long been unhappy with Morgana's lack of adjustment to the new regime but this was the last straw. Morgause could not believe her sister's audacity. "You _know _that no one but one of Vivian's blood could have entered that chamber! And _someone_ went inside and replaced the real crystal with a copy. How foolish do you think I am? You and I are the only ones left of our illustrious family. I know it was you. You thought I couldn't tell the difference between a piece of stone and the Crystal of Neathid?"

Morgause had been urgently requested to go to the vaults earlier when one magician had noticed that the hum of power from the Crystal no longer could be felt. Morgause had cornered Morgana as soon as she returned from the vaults. It had been at least two days since the real crystal was removed, Morgause had calculated. The Queen had rarely been so furious, and had immediately summoned Morgana to the Council Chamber.

Now the two sisters stood nose-to-nose, beside the table in the centre of the room.

Morgana maintained an icy expression. "I can't explain it! Perhaps _you_ should pay more attention to your possessions."

Morgause's delicate features transformed into a snarl and she roughly grabbed Morgana's arm. "It's not a piece of jewelry, Morgana! If it falls into the wrong hands…someone who can control the crystal, we are all doomed."

Morgana said nothing, but continued to fight her sister's grip, glaring at her defiantly even though Morgause's nails were digging into her arm.

Morgause shook her head in rage and let go suddenly, throwing Morgana away from her. The dark-haired sister regained her balance and gathered her train, ready to stomp out.

The Queen had more to say to her rash young sister and so, she approached Morgana quickly and lifted her chin with a tight grip, forcing Morgana's face up. "You think you have given the crystal to someone you can trust. But you are one of _us_ and if the city falls, you will die as one of us."

Morgana pulled herself away and briskly strode out of the Council Chamber, her normally marble-white cheeks flushed with anger and her eyes clouded with doubt about whether she had trusted the right man, and in doing so forsaken her own blood.

As soon as her sister left, Morgause, still shaking, yelled for the guard outside. The man appeared, trembling as always and bowed to her, obediently.

"Find every messenger in the city and send them all to find Mordred! I don't care where he is…I want him here by tomorrow morning." He scrambled away quickly, and Morgause managed to compose herself, sitting down at the head of the table. All was not lost; Mordred's recruits from the Continent had just arrived and their vast numbers could easily crush any army…and hopefully, the dragon, Mordred, would outweigh the loss of the crystal that was, Morgause was now sure, in the wrong hands. She was not certain _when_ this unknown enemy would strike, but she wasn't taking any chances.

As for Morgana, she had wanted to imprison her immediately, but she had let her sister go feeling that imprisonment wasn't a good enough punishment for such a betrayal. It would require some thought.

_Let her think she has gotten away with it. But I will soon teach her – this kind of treason deserves worse than death_, Morgause thought maliciously.

* * *

The messenger's heart raced as he ran towards the darkly-clothed warrior. He had never seen the man he had been sent to find before, but he was sure from the description that this could be none other than the mighty Sir Mordred.

As he approached, the man with folded arms turned to face the messenger, his eyes glowing eerily in the late hours of dusk.

"Sir Mordred, the Queen commands your presence urgently by the morrow in Camelot."

Mordred sneered. "Tell your Queen that I do not respond to her command…but as it will serve my purpose, I will oblige her this time."

The messenger looked terrified at the prospect of travelling back to Camelot with this disfigured man at his side, who was clearly as cold as stone, and black as night.

"Will you teleport back with me, my lord?" The messenger cringed inwardly as he posed the question.

"No. You go. I still have a token I need to collect for a friend." Mordred inclined his head behind him.

The messenger leaned over to see behind Mordred and almost gasped out loud at what he saw. In the distance, a village was in flames; thatched roofs were ablaze, smoke billowing all around. Not one cry for help could be heard - the flames had destroyed everything: the crops, the houses and every life.

"What is that place, Sir Mordred? And how…how did this happen?"

Mordred turned his back to the messenger to face the village. His cold voice held a sense of triumph as he spoke. "That is the flame of revenge that has been consuming me. And now…it is consuming Ealdor."

* * *

And so it was on that dark night, before all their lives would be changed forever that their paths began to converge on the city – the city that held the key to their destinies.

Camelot, with its great turrets and billowing flags…full of flashing images.

Morgause sitting on her throne, savouring; Arthur gazing at the walls of his beloved home, wondering; Morgana looking out the window of her room, doubting; Guinevere hugging her stomach, fearing; Mordred soaring towards the city, burning.

Merlin hovering the illuminated crystal above his face, resigning…


	20. Chapter 19

**So many paths that wind and wind...**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: Well, it's finally here! Apologies for the wait as usual, but considering the two sides of the same coin have spent so much time apart this summer, we were able to churn out a chapter remarkably fast! Perhaps it was all of the travelling through Europe and India that served as inspiration? I think not. Or was it that this chapter has been so ingrained in our minds (and probably all of yours too) since we were young children. Seriously, what are the rules on plagiarism for that which is ubiquitous? For it is by no means an original image. In fact, it was incredibly difficult to put into words what we envisioned as a Disney scene, straight out of movie you-know-which or by the end of the chapter you-will-know-which. At times we even contemplated putting in the youtube link instead of writing, so that you would all see what we saw and we could move on to the good stuff!_

_Truth be told, every chapter is the "good stuff" to us, and now writing each chapter is getting more and more precious as we are beginning the countdown to the end. We'll write 50 epilogues though, don't worry, but one of them will not be entitled 19 year later :P Maybe 20 years, but not 19. It's jinxed, we tell you._

_As we eagerly anticipate season 4, the season that we internally hope will redeem itself after some of the disaster that was season 3 (perhaps we were a little biased by our story), we are also equally aware that even if they screw it up royally, there will be a lot of hot knights running around. That will be good too._

_With much love, and no further adieu, enjoy the imagery which is already in your heads. We have only attempted to give it a voice, so do forgive us with a kind review if we get it wrong, and bless us with a kinder review if we get it a little right._

* * *

**Chapter 19**

_Merlin…_

"If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with triumph and disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

_Arthur…_

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breath a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!"

~ Rudyard Kipling

* * *

"How will I reintroduce myself to the people in the city when I enter it?"

"There is only one sure way you can do this, my lord. And you know it as well as I…"

"The rumours…? But…how can I do what no man or woman has done before me…?"

"Perhaps…all you need is your people's support – their unwavering faith in you – and that will transform the heavy task before you into one as light as a feather."

* * *

The darkness could not contain the rising sun; early rays spilled over the horizon, lighting up the tall and mighty turrets of the castle. However, the inhabitants of the castle did not stir. They slept on, unaware that their time in the kingdom had come to an end – it was the dawn of a new sun.

The fresh light filtered through the windows of the lower town, rousing the citizens from their slumber of oppression. One by one, they approached their windows and drew back the curtains, peering out blearily onto the main street where a silent procession was gliding towards the drawbridge of the castle.

Inexplicably they found themselves donning their cloaks and stepping outside to blindly follow the hooded leader who led the crowd. Walking noiselessly on, they noticed that their neighbours were doing the same.

The procession was like a river, tributaries joining at each street crossing, people blending in together, but never slowing, moving relentlessly forward.

What was it that made every single man, woman and child of Camelot abandon the little security they had in their homes and stake their futures upon this man whose name they did not even know? Somehow they had all understood what his intention was and what the consequences of that intention would be…

And so they marched past the guards outside the castle as though they were made of stone. Likewise Morgause's guards stood like statues, watching in awe as the entire population of Camelot rallied behind the blue-cloaked stranger. They poured into the courtyard filling every nook and cranny, but left clear a circle around the object that Morgause had so desperately tried to make them forget. Though it had been covered deliberately by a large, rotting rag filled with moths, the lacklustre cloth could not conceal the grandeur of the entity underneath, nor erase the memory of what this symbol stood for in their minds.

From the head of the crowd, several men stepped forward. They were dressed in what surely was, at one time, their finest, but now their red cloaks were dulled with use and tattered and frayed at the ends.

As one, they each unflinchingly took hold of a part of the rag and with a flourish unveiled the object…a gleaming sword, still firmly embedded in the stone.

The courtyard was as still and quiet as it had been _before_ the crowd had entered. Not a single breath could be heard as every heart beat as one. Fathers lifted their small children onto their shoulders as they themselves craned their necks to see what would unfold…for now it was clear to the townspeople who these men were.

The exiled Knights of Camelot had finally returned home.

After discarding the filthy rag to the side, they now directed their gaze towards their banished leader, who still stood amongst the crowd.

It was time.

The young warrior's eyes never left the glittering sword as he took the hand of the maiden beside him and squeezed it hard; the moisture on his palm was the only indication of his nervousness.

Slowly, with resolve in his step and with every eye in the crowd upon him, he moved forward and firmly put one foot on the jagged stone. Placing one hand on the hilt of the sword for support, he pulled himself fully onto the rock. His face still hooded, he surveyed the faces of his people – the trials they had faced were easily visible on their person and yet, they stood steadfast with anticipation and hope in their eyes, united. He even noted that scattered amongst the townspeople were a few that were cloaked in black – Morgause's magicians – but they were too stunned and overwhelmed with what was about to happen that they made no move to raise the alarm.

The sun was now rapidly climbing in the sky and rays seemed to shimmer as they fell upon the sword in the stone.

At that very moment, there was a quick movement in the long shadow cast by the statue of the horse-riding knight at the castle entrance. The shift in light made the young man look twice, but just as suddenly as it had happened, all was quiet again.

The hooded man's eyes fell back to the momentous task before him. Taking a deep breath, he added his other hand to the hilt of the sword but just before he pulled it, he hesitated. Not knowing why, his eyes shot up the stairway leading up to the castle, behind the statue of his childhood, and his gaze fell on the figure that just emerged from the shadows.

It was the face that always had given him courage. The face of a friend. The assurance that all would be well.

The young warlock now fully stood in the light and gave his dearest friend a small nod of encouragement.

Knowing that he had never been alone and would never be alone, Arthur Pendragon pulled the sword that had been waiting for his touch and his touch alone, from the stone in one fluid motion. He raised it upwards in an arc until it pointed straight upwards towards the sun.

With one hand, he pulled off his hood and the blue cloak to reveal his scarlet Pendragon cloak of old. Revolving on the spot, he thrust the sword once more into the air and broke the silence with his shout.

"For the love of Camelot!"

The crowd came to life at once and echoed the cry joyfully. "For the love of Camelot!" And then a new chant was taken up by the knights of the kingdom; it quickly spread through the courtyard.

"Hail King Arthur! Long live King! Hail King Arthur! Long live the King!"

Arthur had tears in his eyes as he looked around at the faces of his subjects, but it was not until his eyes landed on Merlin, who was now walking down the stairs towards him with a bounce in his step, that his face broke into a genuine smile. He saw that Merlin's lips were moving and he too was joining in the chant.

"Hail King Arthur! Long live the King!"


	21. Chapter 20

**So many paths that wind and wind...**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: Dear Readers, we present to you the latest Chapter entitled: "Stuff happens...setting up the potential for more stuff happening in the future." We realize that sounds pretty anti-climactic but just wait till you read this chapter because that is EXACTLY what goes down. In fact, after reading this chapter you will think to yourselves..."wow, I could have just read thesamecoin's title for this chapter and saved myself the time to read the actual chapter." Of course, we don't encourage you to NOT read the chapter because that would just be silly. And we're not silly at all...obviously. _

_Anyhow, this chapter also features the return of the GBOAT...what's the G-BOAT, you ask? It's the "Greatest Bromance of All Time". As always, we hope you enjoy this chapter and welcome your feedback. 3! We're almost at the end you guys...things could get emotional/more dramatic than usual (oh believe you us, things CAN get more dramatic). Also, who else is excited for the start of Season 4 this Saturday? Doctor Who Finale + Merlin premiere = thesamecoin in coin heaven. We hope to post soon, so stay tuned!_

* * *

**Chapter 20**

"Revenge is barren of itself: it is the dreadful food it feeds on; its delight is murder, and its end is despair."

~ Friedrich Schiller

"Nothing is easier than to denounce the evildoer; nothing is more difficult than to understand him."

~ Fyodor Dostoevsky

* * *

"Long live the King! Long live the King!"

Morgause awoke with a start and bolted upright.

Was it all a dream?

Panic flooded her veins. She covered her ears tightly with her hands and much to her relief, the chant could no longer be heard. Relaxing slightly, her breathing returned to its normal pace and she uncovered her ears. To her horror, however, the cries resumed, this time even louder than before.

She leapt from her bed and seized the dressing gown lying on the chair near her bed. She hurriedly pulled it through one arm as she ran out the door. She roughly pushed her maids, who had congregated outside her door, out of her way as she raced down the hallway.

With single-mindedness she sprinted along another long corridor, barely noticing magicians and servants fleeing from her path in a helter-skelter manner. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, along with the clear cries of her oppressed subjects that carried from the courtyard through the thick stone walls.

All logic had abandoned Morgause at this point. Her every thought was focused on arriving at the courtyard and enforcing _her_ rule over the people…not realizing or not wanting to acknowledge that their allegiance had never been hers to begin with.

As she arrived at the foot of the staircase, she took a second to glance outside of the huge glass-stained windows, where she saw a crowd larger than she had ever seen in her entire life gathered in the courtyard.

Her throat tightened.

Just then, she heard hurried footsteps and turning her head to the corridor beyond, she saw her sister, Morgana, materialize before her.

For a moment, the two women looked at each other. They had not spoken to each other since their last bitter encounter, neither one trusting the other…but the truth also was that neither willing to sever their bond just yet.

Both were only in their nightclothes, their hair in disarray, and slightly out of breath, but the similarities ended there. While Morgause's face was drawn with dread, Morgana's was alight with anticipation.

Morgause narrowed her eyes as she noted, with a stab of anger, a slight gleam of triumph in Morgana's eyes. Intentionally brushing past her sister, she continued down the stairs, her sister at close her heels.

Morgause did not look back but recalling Morgana's exultant face propelled Morgause to pick up her pace to the point where she was almost sprinting to the main doors and her younger sister fell behind slightly.

There was absolutely no softness left in Morgause now; she would do whatever it took to quell this rebellion.

The chants had become almost thunderous as the sorceress reached the doors leading out of the castle.

"Long live the King! Long live King Arthur!"

Fuming, she blasted open the door to the courtyard with magic. At once, the crowd fell silent and every eye turned to the castle entrance out of which Morgause emerged, more menacing than ever. There was a maniacal glint in her eye and she looked as though she could and would burn every last man, woman and child with her gaze alone. She slowly raised her hand in front of her and before she had even begun to utter a spell, the crowd backed away, cowering, leaving the space between Morgause and the stone at the centre of the courtyard empty.

A loud cry was torn from Morgause's lips before she could help it when she took in the sight upon the stone…the cursed object that had brought her nothing but misery. She wanted to conjure the spell…she wanted to destroy them all, but the scene in front of her froze her body on the spot.

With confidence and shoulder to shoulder, two young men stood upon the large rock and faced her unflinchingly with conviction.

Excalibur gleamed in the hand of Arthur while in Merlin's hands rested the glittering crystal of Neathid. The glowing pair looked as though they had already won the battle. United at last, they faced their foe.

At that very instant, Morgana appeared beside her sister, gasping for breath. Her eager gaze found what she had been seeking and unable to stop herself, she called in excitement, her voice ringing in the quiet courtyard. "Arthur! You're alive!….I…."

She began to run down the stairs towards her foster brother, but before she had advanced two steps, Morgause's paralyzed mind sprang to life at her sister's overt betrayal. She gripped her sister's arm, yanking Morgana back and pulling her behind her own frame.

Pushing Morgana aside, she snarled, "You traitor! How dare you! I want you to watch as I take my revenge for your disloyalty towards your only kin."

Morgause raised her hand once again but this time began to chant rapidly, her eyes glowing amber. Above her, a swirling vortex of energy appeared and grew before her hand.

The crowd began to jostle each other nervously and some people began to run in order to escape what they believed to be their incumbent doom, but the courtyard was so cramped that the trampling people just created more chaos.

But then, several things happened at once: as Morgause directed the ball of energy towards Arthur and Merlin, the warlock held the crystal above his head and shouted a booming spell. The crystal instantly shone brighter than before and protective rays of bright, white light emanated from the crystal in every direction. The waves spread out over the crowd and created a silver defense shield between Arthur and his allies and Morgause.

Merlin had been practicing with the crystal day and night since Morgana had given it to him and to his relief, now, in one of his greatest moment of need the crystal had not let him down…_he _had not let Arthur and the people of Camelot down. The crystal had enhanced the power of his spells beyond his wildest imagination.

Before he could revel in the success of his spellwork, he realized that his shield was not needed after all for Morgana had, at the very last second, flung herself towards Morgause and pushed her attacking arm out of the way, breaking her concentration.

But as Morgause briefly lost her balance and her arm fell away, it hit Morgana in the chest and the very last remnants of the energy vortex radiated from Morgause's hand and struck Morgana. The brave young Seer was flung backwards to the ground forcefully.

Distracted from her initial plan of destroying the threat to her throne, Morgause advanced upon her sister, who though conscious, was weakened by the spell that had just hit her. Morgana was crawling backwards from her formidable sister, but the Queen did not relent and as she advanced upon her sibling, she glared at her through burning eyes.

"This will be the final time you ever defy me!" Morgause shrieked.

Unable to move….unable to react, Morgana closed her eyes tightly, awaiting the blow…

Suddenly, a large shadow swooped over them and the early sun was hidden as blackness fell over the scene. Merlin knew what it was before even looking up and his heart clenched in dread. "RUN!" Merlin shouted.

The crowd didn't need to be told twice as confusion erupted. The Camelot citizens began to run first for their homes, some clutching the hands of villagers from afar to share their shelter with the visitors who had come to support Arthur.

Arthur and Merlin crouched down upon the stone, surveying the people rushing around them. The shadow was moving faster and darkening more and more, every second.

"Arthur!" Merlin said urgently. "You must get out of here!" He looked around helplessly, still holding the crystal, racking his brains for a spell to cast against this new, more formidable foe.

"All this time, Merlin, you never really left me…and I am not leaving you now," Arthur replied, his voice even as he locked eyes with Merlin. He wanted to make sure that they were now together, on the same side, and on the same page, regardless of what happened.

Merlin wanted to argue, but seeing the determined look in his friend's eyes, he fell silent.

Still calm, Arthur gave Merlin a slight nod and jumped off the stone, going first to Gwen and pushing her towards Leon, who quickly directed her towards cover by maneuvering around the panicked crowd.

Arthur directed his gaze to his knights and some of the more resilient townspeople who had not budged. He raised his voice. "This is not the time to fight – for we have not made preparation and a battle without order will surely end in ruin. I know it is hard to conceive – but right now you must run for shelter! Those of you who have homes here, offer your hospitality to the people who have come from the North. I am relying on you, my dearest friends and fellow citizens. Your weeks of training will not go in vain, I promise you! You _will_ be called to fight when the time comes."

He spoke quickly but directly to the people, appealing to their practical nature. Understanding their King's message, the knights bowed and began to direct the villagers and citizens alike towards the gates.

Arthur held Excalibur firmly, an encouraging smile on his face, attempting to maintain his picture of serenity as the people looked to him on their way out for confidence and hope.

Suddenly an ominous thud sounded behind him and he turned slowly to see the anguished face of Merlin looking down at the ground.

Merlin had dropped the crystal and was staring in shock at the body that had been thrown at his feet.

As Arthur watched in dread, the enormous dragon finally landed, making the ground tremble. He clawed up the crystal that Merlin had just dropped, and was about to advance upon the young warlock, but the beast was immediately distracted by the two figures on the stairs leading up to the castle. Ignoring Merlin, who had now dropped to his knees, the dragon pounded his way towards the castle.

…The blow never came. Morgana heard loud noises in the background and hesitantly, she opened her eyes to see Morgause's momentarily shocked face just before a black dragon clamped his jaw around her and threw her away from Morgana with terrible might.

Morgause was knocked unconscious as her head hit the edge of the iconic statue of Camelot…the statue of a man on the horse. Blood trickled slowly from her blond hair and Morgana's heart skipped a beat. Rising up on her elbows so that she could see better, Morgana felt relieved that at least that Morgause's chest was still rising and falling with shallow breaths.

She scrambled clumsily to her feet and began to slowly approach her sister. Her concern for her sister overwhelmed her at this moment and though she was a little surprised by the intensity of her distress, Morgana realized that though she disagreed with her sister on many accounts, they still shared the bond of blood. Morgause had been there for Morgana at a time when no one else was.

The dragon watched Morgana with slight interest for a while until she steadied herself on her feet. At this, the great beast was convinced that no serious harm had been done to Morgana.

The dragon menacingly then turned his attention to her golden-haired kin who had dared to hurt the only person Mordred had ever cared about…Morgana.

Morgana screamed in terror, her hands covering her mouth as Mordred opened his mouth and released a torrent of flames, reducing the defenceless Queen Morgause to mere ashes.

Instantaneously after his merciless deed, Mordred transformed into his human self and turned to face Morgana, worry etched in one side of his face, while the other half remained unreadable because of his scar.

Morgana shakily rushed as quickly as she could towards Mordred. She held his face with both her hands and as if begging him to undo his last action; she kept shaking her head, unable to speak. Finally she asked in utter disbelief, "Mordred…that was…my sister…what have you done…?"

Realizing that they were not alone in this moment, Morgana's eyes focused to Merlin, who was now glaring at the pair of them through his tears, with the most accusatory glower she had ever seen. Morgana had never seen Merlin look so angry.

Keeping her hand on Mordred's chest, she pushed him aside as she took a few faltering steps down the stairs towards the warlock; her eyes which had already been moist upon awakening to the welcoming cries, now overflowed with tears. As though in a trance, she saw the scene before her eyes…

The people in the courtyard had dwindled. Some magicians remained, silent and unmoving, unsure of where their allegiance now lay. Commoners rushed here and there, children were crying loudly and the knights were escorting families out of the courtyard. And amidst it all, in the centre, Merlin, cradled the body of his dead and disfigured mother in his arms, shaking uncontrollably with sobs. Arthur's steady hand was on his shoulder, his own face distraught.

Morgana looked back up at Mordred, who was standing with his arms folded, looking quite pleased with himself.

"How could you?" she cried. She pushed him away slightly, taking another step down, but he did not move.

Mordred looked shocked for a second at her words as though she had lost her mind. "He got what he deserved!" Mordred said spitefully.

Morgana could not believe her ears or her eyes. She could not imagine what had driven the young Druid boy into _this…_

Trying to compose himself, Merlin wiped his tears with the back of his hand. His devastation had begun to turn into anger. He shouted, his voice cracking, but it was still easily heard over the commotion in the courtyard. "I wanted to save you, brother! But there is no coming back from this…none can save you now."

Morgana was still staring up at Mordred as though she had never seen him before…still questioning his descent into darkness. How could that boy she had thought she knew and loved have killed her sister and an innocent mother without a shred of conscience?

Her heart gave a quick painful spasm, but making up her mind in a split second about whose side she was really on, she ran towards Merlin, tripping over her long dressing gown. She had only reached the foot of the stairs when a powerful arm grabbed her around her waist and threw her over a shoulder, as though she were only a feather.

She struggled to get away, kicking and beating every part of Mordred she could reach, but he paid no heed.

"Don't, Morgana." Mordred tried to pat her comfortingly, while still holding her in an iron-grip. "You're upset…but I am here. I will look after you. There is no need to run to the _enemy."_

He continued along the path towards where his half-brother and his once benefactor stood.

"Arthur, you had your choice and you chose _him_," Mordred spat, jerking his head towards Merlin. "Now prepare for battle at dawn." He gave a twisted smile but his bitter voice gave away his inner turmoil. "I am not a monster…I will give you this night to prepare. Prepare to fight for what you believe in, only to see it get destroyed," Mordred said, his chest heaving with anger, but his voice cold and emotionless.

Merlin struggled to his feet, for the first time in his life wanting to physically rip someone apart from limb to limb. "Why wait for dawn, you coward?" He searched wildly for the crystal.

Mordred smirked and held up the glittering stone mockingly and Merlin's shoulders slumped, helpless. "So eager, brother, to meet your mother? Well it was _you _whodenied me from meeting mine. It was because of _you _and _your _mother that my father left my mother! I think I am being more than kind. I am giving you only one night…for you to feel the loneliness I have felt for a lifetime."

Mordred then turned to address the magicians cowering in the background. "If any of you are still with me – and want what's right for the people of magic: dominion over all, then join me beyond the plains where our camp has been set up. Just know this. If you choose to stay here and fight for _Arthur_ and this waste of a man they call _Merlin_, you are choosing almost certain death." The threat hung in the air and already the majority of the magicians disappeared, evidently teleporting themselves to the other camp.

Merlin swore internally in frustration, disappointed in his magician kin, though some still remained, shaking slightly with fear but with determined looks on their faces.

Ignoring Morgana, who was now screaming for her release loudly in his ear, Mordred transformed into the dragon instantaneously and before Arthur could rush to help her, the large dragon had already taken off, with Morgana clutching helplessly onto its scales.

Arthur watched the skies after them his mind racing with thoughts, plans and fears.

Merlin meanwhile gathered Hunith in his arms, his mind far from thinking of the battle, but dwelling instead on how the warmth of his mother's hand felt as it used to rest on his cheek. But no more…

One way or another, tomorrow, he would have no more kin left…


	22. Chapter 21

**So many paths that wind and wind**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: Now, you might be wondering why we end up saying this every chapter...but this time, we swear, it's for real. This is...wait for it...actually, don't wait for it any longer...the chapter you have all been anticipating beyond belief!_

_Well, to be fair, maybe you all have not been on the edge of your seats waiting for this epic chapter, but WE have! And we cannot tell you how much satisfaction it gave us to finally get the words down on the page, after imagining them for over a year. Wow. That's a long time, other side of the same coin. The true conception of this chapter began underneath the Arc de Triomphe in Paris; as strange as it may sound, we may or may not have spent three hours there spelling out every intricate detail of what would happen in this scene. Only to promptly forget it all as soon as we got back to our hostel. Only to discuss it again there and come up with new details. Only to forget it again when we came back home from our trip. Only to rediscover all the details (and maybe add some new ones) this past week. So a lot of forgetting and remembering has gone into this chapter and perhaps that is what made it so much fun to write._

_Because there is nothing more brilliant than rediscovering how fantastic you and your ideas are, over and over. It's a huge ego boost._

_Anyway, apologies for the wait, we hope you will forgive us when you reach the end of this masterpiece. A quick note - this chapter does contain more mature themes, so please be mindful of that and if anything bothers you, put your hands over your eyes and peek through the gaps between your fingers, and...continue reading._

_In summary, this is the chapter where Arthur does battle-prep, Gwen does Queenly-prep, Merlin does magic, and Mordred...well, he does something too._

_Without further ado, we present, the TENT SCENE!_

* * *

**Chapter 21**

"He in a few minutes ravished this fair creature, or at least would have ravished her, if she had not, by a timely compliance, prevented him."

~ Henry Fielding

* * *

It was time to let go.

Unwillingly, he released her cold hand and used his other hand to slowly lower the body, his magic guiding the still figure into the roughly dug grave. With a large sweeping movement of his arm, the grave was closed and a mound now marked where Hunith lay.

Merlin fell to his knees, his face wet with tears as he placed a single white flower on the his mother's final resting place.

The loss felt heavier than any burden he had ever had to carry. But the softness of the wind, the gentle swaying of the trees, and the fragrance of the flower reminded him of his sweet mother. They all seemed to be trying to console him…telling him that she would never be far from his thoughts…that her spirit was always going to be around him.

Merlin had not made the journey alone to bury his mother. He had expected nothing from his friends after the morning's tumultuous events. Mordred's menacing words now meant that war was looming over Camelot; the kingdom was gripped in fear, trying to prepare quickly for the imminent battle.

Nonetheless, Guinevere and Arthur had accompanied Merlin to the peaceful countryside where they now stood at a respectful distance. The pair were a little lower down on the hill, giving Merlin some privacy to mourn his mother. Their hands were intertwined, as they too contemplated the loss of Hunith. Their hearts went out to their friend…and though they had only known Hunith for a brief time, they knew how deeply Merlin cared for his mother.

Both Arthur and Gwen had lost their parents and seeing Merlin mourn his mother, they couldn't help but fondly remember times when their parents _had_ been beside them…a time when their lives had been much simpler. Their past now almost felt like dull echoes of their dreams because at the present moment, neither Arthur or Gwen could fully comprehend anything but the momentous task that was in front of them…the task that was facing the entire kingdom.

After some long minutes, Arthur and Gwen finally glanced at each other and looked back at Merlin's fallen figure over his mother's grave; as one, the couple moved towards him.

Merlin heard soft footsteps approach him as Guinevere knelt beside him, taking his hand in hers.

"Merlin…I know how difficult this must be for you. Having never known my own mother…I could only wish that she was as lovely as yours," Gwen said softly.

"I could not agree more," Arthur added simply. He too lowered himself on the other side of Merlin and put his arm around Merlin's thin shoulders.

Merlin looked up and turned to both his friends, his eyes conveyed his gratitude. He could not form the words at that moment to tell them just how much their presence meant to him.

After a long silence, he removed his hand from Gwen's grasp and wiped his tears with the back of his sleeve. Climbing to his feet, he said in a shaky, but determined voice, "We should return to Camelot. There's a war to be won."

Arthur and Gwen followed suit and rose to find Merlin quickly walking toward the horses that were tied a yards from the burial grounds.

As Merlin adjusted his saddle, he avoided eye contact with his friends who had just caught up with him. He found himself blinking fast to keep the tears from spilling out as they were incessantly threatening to do.

Arthur spoke up hesitantly, not wanting to be unfeeling, but he knew that as Merlin had said, there was a war to be won…and many lives were at stake. "Merlin…I must ride ahead now and see to the men. The knights are supposed to be organizing weaponry and I have to go and see to the ranks myself."

Merlin's eyes were still downcast, but he inclined his head briefly and Arthur added, "Could you ensure Gwen gets to Camelot safely? In her delicate condition, she has been advised by Gaius not to travel at a fast pace on horseback."

Merlin turned to Gwen, who to his surprise did not argue with Arthur, but only blushed slightly as Arthur kissed her cheek and protectively placed his hand over her stomach. Her warm brown eyes met Merlin's eagerly, looking for his approval.

Merlin understood the gesture and a small smile appeared on his grave face. He tried to communicate his pleasure at the news with an encouraging nod at the couple. As much as he wanted to, however, it was not the time to celebrate now…

Tomorrow was war. And who knew who would live and who would die? The events of the day so far had established that much at least...

Arthur mounted his horse, Torrento, and turned it to face Merlin, who was helping Gwen onto a brown horse. "Merlin…I hate to discuss this with you at this time, but it must be done. I noticed that there were some magicians who did not follow Mordred. What should we do about them?"

Merlin sighed and replied, as he tightened the straps of the reigns, "I know. While I was in disguise, some of them spoke to me about how they were not too pleased with Morgause's rule but were afraid of defying her. I should speak to those who remain and perhaps…I can tell them that we can offer them a better future." There was a slight question in Merlin's tone as he finished, as though he was testing Arthur, trying to see if his mindset had changed regarding magic.

"Yes, you must tell them that magic, as long as it is used for good, _will_ be a part of the new Camelot. I have seen enough in the last months to know that magic is a part of this land, a part of our very spirit. I can no more banish it, or refuse to acknowledge it, than I can my own right arm. It is you who have taught me that Merlin," Arthur said, his voice ringing with conviction.

Merlin's spirits lifted at Arthur's words of trust. He couldn't believe what a transformation Arthur had undergone under the tutelage of Kilgharrah. In that moment, he could see why the Old Religion had given him magic to help Arthur. His friend would make a just and fair King and Merlin would help him past this final hurdle…whatever it took, Merlin would ensure that Arthur's would fulfill his destiny.

"You should also know that there were some magicians who arrived with the villagers and they have already been fighting for us. Perhaps you could speak to them as well?" Arthur asked hopefully.

"I will try to gather as many magicians as I can before dusk," Merlin promised.

"Please come find me then so we can discuss how magic can be used during battle. It must be a part of our strategy."

"Yes, sire," Merlin responded automatically.

Arthur looked surprised. "Merlin…I am not asking you this as a prince or a king, but as a friend."

Merlin walked over to Arthur's horse and stroked Torrento's mane, locking eyes with Arthur.

Arthur's face broke into a smile and he said with emotion, "I've missed you, my friend."

The magician returned the smile and held out his hand which his former master gripped tightly.

"Yes, _Arthur_. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Arthur sighed and looked at Merlin for a moment as though dearly wanting to speak, but after a long minute, he shook his head.

Gwen, who had been silent so far in their exchange, spoke up, and came to Arthur's rescue. "I think what Arthur is trying to say...," Gwen looked at her husband for support, but received none, for Arthur was trying to appear brave and unconcerned. "I mean…what _I__'__m_ trying to say…" she ventured bravely, "I don't wish to add to your burden, Merlin…but Arthur told me that Morgana called for our help before Mordred took her away. I haven't been here in Camelot, nor have I seen her for a long time…but she was my friend…and yours too…and I _want _to believe she is on our side or some part of her is with us. I don't want any harm to come to her…or to you, but is there anything you can do for her?" Gwen finished her speech in a rush, colour rising to her cheeks, but she needed to speak up and say _something_ because she knew that if she didn't she would regret it for as long as she lived. Guinevere could not abandon her friend...even if there was a slight chance that Morgana was not beyond redemption. She desperately needed to understand Morgana's actions…Gwen knew her mistress and Morgana had often acted impulsively, but her heart had always been in the right place.

Merlin's grip on Torrento's reigns tightened, his knuckles turned white and his face, which had been softening in the last few minutes of the conversation, instantaneously became cold and distant upon the mention of the witch's name. He did not meet either of their eyes, but spoke in a bitter tone. "You were not there Gwen. You did you not see how she looked at Mordred when he arrived. I _assure _you that no harm will come to her when she's with that…monster!"

Arthur's face visibly fell at Merlin's reaction, but he composed himself. "I…I understand. I trust you, Merlin. You have seen more of her than I have. Whatever you decide is probably for the best," Arthur said heavily and reared his horse. He rode away at a furious pace without looking back.

Left alone with his decision to leave Morgana to her own devices, Merlin had the slightest inkling of doubt. Morgana and he had grown to be…if not friends, then temporary allies ever since she had handed him the crystal. They had even opened their minds to each other, allowing one other to communicate as needed, though neither of them truly acknowledged the nature of their relationship. She had helped him beyond measure by not just procuring the crystal, but aiding him to sneak around and practice with it without anyone's knowledge.

But the thawing of his heart froze yet again as he recalled the image of her brightened face upon Mordred's arrival. He had been too overwhelmed with grief and shock when Mordred had flung Hunith's body at his feet to see anything else…but Morgana's face as she had initially greeted Mordred was burnt into his mind and made him blind to everything else that had happened including Morgause's death, and her pleas for help had fallen upon deaf ears.

Ever since she had been carried off by Mordred, he could hear her cries echoing in his mind, but he did not care. With conscious effort, he had closed the corridor between them, assuring himself that she was nothing but trouble and that he did not care what happened to her.

He was staring off into the distance lost in his thoughts when Gwen called his name for the third time. "Merlin! Are you alright?"

Merlin slowly walked towards his horse and jumped on the saddle. "We must get going, Gwen."

As they slowly began to trot, Gwen looked pained. "Are you sure you are doing the right thing? Though Arthur will not admit it, her loss pains him daily. After all, she is the only family he has left…"

"She has made her choice, Gwen. I gave her a chance…she chose him."

* * *

It was nearly midday. In Camelot, every house was bustling with activity. Old chests were being thrown open and swords, armour and shields were being retrieved. Ordinary citizens searched for courage in their hearts to face the magicians, hoping against hope that they would make it through the war.

Vast plains separated those in Camelot from the magicians that threatened their existence. The army Mordred had amassed from the Continent had set up camp in the mountains on the other side of the plains opposite from Camelot; many of Morgause's men had instantly fled Camelot after hearing Mordred's proposal because the alternative of fighting against him seemed foolish...it was a suicidal notion.

A large dragon flew over the plains known as Camlann and began to circle the mountainous terrain. The dragon's shadow grew larger and larger, looming over the newly erected tents. Magicians emerged from all corners of the encampment, shouting and pointing at the dragon; the great beast was carrying a small writhing figure on his back.

The dragon landed with a thud and Mordred transformed into his human form immediately.

The force of the transformation had thrown Morgana off the dragon and she landed a little distance away. She immediately jumped to her feet and tried to look for a gap amongst the crowd through which she could escape, but she was surrounded by curious, unfriendly glares of strangers. Some of them she recognized from the palace, but most were complete strangers from distant lands. All of them seemed to be enjoying her helpless state, especially the palace magicians who had long wanted the Queen's sister to come off her high horse. They closed the circle around her and pushing forward, they forced her to back up. Fearful of them, she unwillingly fell back against Mordred's strong chest.

She felt him grip her arms tightly, his hands digging into her flesh. He addressed the crowd, but was unrelenting in his grasp, his harsh breath falling in her ears as she struggled against him.

"War is upon us. Your very existence is being attacked. Magic has never been accepted in Camelot…and it never will be. Tomorrow we will fight…and we _will_ win because we are fighting for our very survival," Mordred spoke in a quiet voice, but somehow that made him seem even more dangerous because his aura exuded power and control.

As soon as he finished speaking, the crowd that had remained dead silent burst into battle cries.

Mordred eyes swept over the crowd and he raised his hand. The magicians ceased their cries instantly. "_King_ Arthur has returned from the dead," he said with a sneer. "Let us send him back to where he belongs! I swear to you…as long as I am your leader, I will not rest until magic rules all."

One man in the front of the crowd began to chant, "Mor-dred! Mor-dred! MOR-DRED!" and soon the entire encampment echoed his cries.

Smirking in a self-congratulatory manner, he roughly pulled Morgana into the main tent that had been set up for him. As soon as they entered, he let go of her so suddenly that she was thrown to the ground.

Before she could recover and get up, he was at her level. He gripped her chin with one hand, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes widened as she absorbed the features of his disfigured face that she had not registered before. Though the one side of his face remained unmarred - handsome even - the other was burnt beyond recognition.

"_Who_ were you trying to communicate with? I felt your magic reaching out! WHO WAS IT, MORGANA?" His eyes were narrowed, and his jaw was set firmly. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't Merlin that she was trying to communicate with…but inside…he just _knew_.

Morgana was in shock at his sudden angry outburst and his rough treatment of her; his true nature had finally come crashing down on her after seeing his cold-blooded murders firsthand...and after he had dragged her against her will from her beloved city, Morgana simply could not find a rational explanation for any of Mordred's reckless behaviour. Not a trace of that young Druid boy that she had helped so long ago remained in this beast. During Mordred's flight from Camelot to the magicians' encampment, she had been desperately trying to communicate with Merlin as she had done so many times before...but despite everything she tried she could not reach him...it was as though a wall had erupted out of nowhere between them. Merlin had not heard her pleas for help...no one was coming for her...

Mordred's pincer-like grip was digging into her skin and with a wince she said, "Mordred…you are hurting me! Let go!" Morgana glared at his face with as much defiance as she could muster.

Surprisingly, he obeyed and stood up, turning his back on her as she rubbed her chin gingerly. For the first time, her piercing gaze had made him feel conscious of his marred face. He did not care how other people looked at him…but _she _mattered.

Gruffly, he said, "I am sorry if I hurt you."

"Sorry? You've already hurt me beyond belief." No longer feeling helpless, with newfound strength she got to her feet and pulled at his shoulder, forcing him to face her. She pointed at the reddened marks on her arms where he had gripped her. "This? This is nothing…what pains me more is how you killed my sister in cold blood…without a second thought…." She shook her head, still in disbelief.

He interrupted her. "I did it for you, Morgana! Morgause was going to hurt _you_ and you are the most important thing in my life!" Mordred retorted in an almost pleading voice; his eyes searched hers for some sign of forgiveness.

But she looked at him as though he were a stranger. "Why did you take justice into your own hands, Mordred? You had no right…It is true Morgause had wronged many…even me, but she was still my sister." Morgana could not believe how fast Mordred had reacted, how fast her sister had disappeared from existence, how fast her entire world had collapsed...

"Morgana, I cannot bear to see you hurt. Not even by your sister…" Mordred did not know how to make her understand his actions.

Morgana knew that it would be impossible to repair her relationship with Mordred. He had taken forcefully her away from her home, torn her away from all those she cared for and acted in a way she could not justify…no longer could she make excuses for him. She raised her head, standing tall, trying to remain composed. "If you truly care that much about me, then let me go! I want to go back to Arthur..." The look on his face after she uttered those words made her shudder in fear.

"And _Merlin_…" he spat, trying to gauge her reaction.

She could no longer meet Mordred's eyes as her face softened, thinking of Merlin and what he must be feeling at his mother's loss. But she still could not understand why Merlin had shut himself to her after growing so close in the last few weeks...why could she not communicate with him?

Mordred let out a snarl at her silence and slammed his fist on the tent pole, which made the tent shake and threaten to topple over.

"Why are you trying to destroy me, Morgana?" His voice was full of rage, and yet desperate.

"Destroy you? How can you say such a thing? I have only ever tried to protect you!" Morgana retorted. "And look at what you've done, in return! Merlin is the one that has been destroyed by your needless hate. I don't understand why…why you decided to kill his mother!"

"You do not know how I have suffered…upon discovering that…that filthy excuse for a sorcerer is my brother!" Mordred's heart pounded as he revealed the secret that was eating him alive on the inside, hoping against hope that Morgana would see things from his perspective.

"Your brother?" Morgana exclaimed. She was taken aback. _Why __had __Merlin __never __mentioned__…_

"Yes…my half-brother. We share the same father…Balinor, the last Dragonlord. The reason why I can become a dragon at will. Merlin must share the same gift of control over dragons…but we couldn't be more different! He and his mother are the cause of my despair. They are the reason my father abandoned my mother. The reason why I grew up without a family. And you are angry with _me_? How easily _you _have forgotten that he killed you without a second thought…"

Morgana could never forget that day; the betrayal she had felt…the bitter taste of poison on her lips. But ever since she had begun to question Morgause, she had realized that all along, one thing in her life had remained constant. And that was Merlin, and his commitment to Arthur and Camelot. If there was nothing else she could depend on, she could rely on Merlin's loyalty being the one constant that would never change. She was not foolish…she knew that he had would never fully trusted her and he was full of secrets, but he was _Merlin_. Hesitantly, Morgana began, "Things are different now. We are on the same side…and…"

"You should _hate_ him!" Mordred snapped at her words; the softness of her voice as she spoke them infuriated him beyond belief.

Morgana's eyes flashed. "Yes, it is true, Mordred! I _do _have reason to hate him…but for some reason, I can forgive him easier than I can forgive you…" Morgana said. She backed away from him, trying to identify the tent flap behind him.

It was not to be, however. Mordred advanced upon her. "If that is what you think, I must stop you. Know that it is for your own good. Merlin is dangerous…I've said this before, and I will say it again: I cannot bear to see you hurt…and if you are going to hurt yourself…then I must stop you."

From his cloak, he pulled the crystal of Neathid that he had stolen from Merlin. Morgana looked up at him with terror in her eyes, but he did not hesitate. Holding her shoulder tightly with one hand, he pushed the crystal against her heart as she screamed in pain.

The crystal shimmered brightly as golden threads of light drained from Morgana's entire being into the crystal. Morgana's eyes fluttered shut as more and more strands of light danced in the crystal. The crystal glowed brighter than ever and then suddenly returned to its normal appearance.

At that instant, Morgana fell limp to the ground, her magic completely drained from her.

Mordred bent and carefully lifted her off the ground, and placed her onto his own makeshift bed. He brushed a strand of her hair from her face and spoke to her unmoving figure.

"I gave you a chance…and you chose him," he said with remorse.

Mordred drank in her pale face...he had been separated from her for _too_ long. Everything he had done had been for her…and she would eventually come to appreciate that. "Soon you'll see the light," he spoke again softly to her still figure.

He turned away and picked up the crystal where it had fallen. Slowly, while looking in the mirror, he lifted it to his chest and pressed it into his armour. It burnt through his armour…and as it pierced his skin…the pain felt agonizing…but Mordred barely flinched, ever the stoic.

* * *

"_We want this to end too." _

"_We will fight in Arthur's name."_

"_Though we will only fight if you promise that we shall never be persecuted under Arthur's rule!"_

Their voices echoed in his mind.

Merlin hoped that he would be able to fulfill the promise that he had made to the magicians a few hours ago. He had tracked down the few remaining magicians from Morgause's army who had lingered in Camelot. After much convincing and deliberation, they had agreed to Merlin's proposal, but not whole-heartedly, since none of them really knew Arthur or how he would be as king. In their minds, Mordred was definitely the worse of two evils...and they would fight for Arthur, withholding their judgement of Uther's son until after the war.

They had then proceeded to discuss strategies and tactics for the battle and finally after many long hours, Merlin had left them in the courtyard feeling that he had done the best he could.

He had then decided to take a walk to clear his head, and now he was traipsing through the winding streets of Camelot, which were abuzz with commoners preparing for battle. Many townsfolk were sharpening swords, some were adjusting their armour, while the blacksmiths worked away tirelessly to make as many battle axes as they could.

Meanwhile, the women hurriedly packed their most precious belongings and taking the hands of their young children, they made ready to go to the castle. Earlier in the day, Arthur had sent word to the city and the surrounding areas that all those who were not fighting should make way to the castle at dusk where they would be housed for the duration of the battle. This way, if Mordred ever reached Camelot, the women and children would be spared…at least for a little while.

Merlin glanced at a nearby dark-haired child who was holding his mother's hand with one chubby fist happily unaware of the grave danger coming, and in the other hand was clutching a stuffed rabbit toy. The mother looked worried as she shifted the sack of food from one shoulder to the other and then pulled the boy close behind her as she clambered up the cobbled street.

With a pang, Hunith's loss hit Merlin yet again. And at that moment, standing there amidst the commotion, the atmosphere of fear, the thousands of lives at stake…he truly recognized what he stood to lose.

Merlin knew that no matter how hard any of them or Arthur prepared for battle…they could not win. Not without a miracle.

He knew what he had to do.

He teleported immediately to the Council Chamber entrance. The knights and Arthur were poring over the map of the plains of Camlann. They all looked up as Merlin entered the room.

The knights had not properly greeted Merlin, nor paid their respects to his mother, and so all of them rushed forwards to convey their condolences. Some of them patted Merlin on the back comfortingly, but Lancelot gave Merlin a one-armed hug.

However, anyone had a chance to speak, Merlin held up his hand, and everyone waited respectfully for him to speak. "Arthur, I have spoken to the magicians and they are with us for now. You will to deal with their concerns about magic and its future in Camelot in person, after the war…but if we want there to be an "after the war", there is something I need to get desperately from Mordred."

Arthur looked confused, but he came closer to Merlin and nodded, worry etched into his face. "Do what you must. I have faith in you…but please, Merlin, be careful."

The knights, standing slightly behind Arthur, watched Merlin's resolute face with newfound respect. Lancelot stood near the head of the table and gave Merlin an encouraging smile.

Merlin lowered his voice so that only Arthur could hear. He reached out and grasped Arthur's forearm. He looked intently into Arthur's eyes. "I _will _look for Morgana…but…if she doesn't want to return with me, I will not force her."

After a pause, Arthur spoke, choosing his words carefully. "That is all I can ask. If she has forsaken me…so be it." Arthur's eyes fell and he turned back to the knights.

Merlin left the room and closed the doors behind him. He walked towards the stained glass window in front of him, and ignoring the people rushing about, he closed his eyes. Reaching into his mind, he pulled open the door to that dark corner he had refused to open since Mordred was a child. Focusing on that irrefutable familial bond, with a swirl of his cloak, he disappeared.

* * *

The sun quickly vanished behind the mountainous range. A dark blanket settled over the camp and the aura of the site was much different than that of the city.

Instead of fear with a touch of both dread and hope, the air was intoxicated with overconfidence and anticipation. All the magicians were lounging around various fires, prematurely toasting their victory for they were certain they could not lose. How could they? They had magic…and they had a dragon.

While the outside world was focused on the battle the next day, inside his tent, Mordred had another battle he intended to win.

He sat back in the uncomfortable wooden chair near the cot and watched his conquest stir slightly for the first time since she had lost consciousness. Her breathing resumed a more regular pace and colour returned to her face as her eyelids fluttered. Mordred could not tear his eyes away…he was completely captured, captivated by her every move. How could he ever make her see that she ruled his heart with her every breath?

He had taken her by force, he knew this…but who would protect her there? Her weak foster brother? Her _murderer_?

His anger at Merlin had gotten the better of him and he had taken it out on her…the crystal had leeched away her magic from her soul…and Mordred _was_ sorry that he had resorted to such means. But it was only to keep her safe…after all, _she _had been naïve…he would explain it all to her and she would understand in time.

Her snow-white skin and ebony hair glimmered in the dim firelight. Though she wore no jewellery and her nightgown was one of her simpler ones, she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He had always known Morgana was a lovely woman; as a young boy it had ended for him there. But it was only when he had assumed his adult form that he had realized not only how attractive she was, but also how attracted he was _to_ her.

She was simply stunning. No other woman could _ever _compare.

His eyes wandered from her face, taking in the curves of her body accentuated by her thin nightgown. He wanted her. He wanted her more than anything…he wanted her to be his.

Slowly, he reached his hand forward towards her creamy, soft hand only to see it pulled away. His eyes instantly narrowed and a growl escaped his lips against his will. His eyes shot back to her face. She was wide-awake now and was looking at him with an unreadable expression.

Wearily, she pushed the pillows up and raised herself to a sitting position. Shivering slightly, she pulled her gown tighter to her body.

"Are you cold?" Mordred asked in what he thought was a concerned, collected voice.

The heat in his gaze did nothing to warm her up. She shook her head…it was the coldness of a tremendous loss that she felt – as if her entire being had been blown apart and she was left clutching at nothing. The pain which she had experienced when Mordred had held the crystal to her chest was beyond any kind of mortal wound….she knew what he had taken from her, but she could not fathom _how_ he could have done such a thing.

She had struggled her whole life to make magic a part of her life, but it wasn't until the moment when it had been torn from her that she realized that she had never really existed without it.

Mordred rose from his chair to tend to the fire by hand. He threw more logs in instead of using magic in front of her…he felt guilty.

Her eyes followed him as he sat back down and she could not believe that he had the audacity to face her so calmly.

Morgana had only had a single goal and determination was coarsing through her veins, giving her strength. She was only vaguely aware of the outside world…of Merlin, of Arthur and the war that had consumed the entire kingdom. For her, the only thing that existed now was this tent…she _had _to get her magic back…it didn't matter what it took. She was _nothing _without it. When she had first entered the tent, her only purpose had been to get back to Arthur. But now…she couldn't go anywhere without her essence, without her soul.

"How long have I been sleeping?" she asked in a deceptively calm voice. It took all of her resolve to not scream at him. However, she knew she would get nowhere by angering Mordred further…she had seen how deadly his anger could be. If she had any hope of retrieving her magic from him it would have to be by appealing to his humanistic side…whether he had any compassion or not left remained to be seen. She knew he had always thought very highly of her, even as a child, and she hoped she had enough strength left in her to win him over.

Thankful that she was pretending as though nothing had happened, Mordred jumped at the opportunity to avoid a confrontation. "The sun has just set. Are you well rested? Shall I send for food?"

Her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten anything all day, but she would not accept a morsel from him. She responded immediately and rather curtly. "No, thank you."

There was an uncomfortable silence as they both contemplated each other, Mordred with a hungry look in his eyes and Morgana trying to calculate her next move.

Trying to sound friendlier, she began, "Because of everything that's happened…" Morgana inwardly cringed, forcing herself to act normal. "I have not had the chance to speak with you properly. Tell me about your travels." Then she recalled how she had been unable to connect with his mind properly in the more recent months. Could that be related to his obvious change of character? She said nothing out loud.

Mordred was glad to see that Morgana seemed to be on the path of forgiveness. With a little smirk, he replied, "I have travelled far and wide…but nothing gives me as much pleasure as being here…with you." He slowly rose from his chair and sat next to her on the bed. "These past months…you have filled my every thought…I have been tormented by you in my dreams. Finally…this moment I have been dreaming of has come…"

He had refused to touch the women who had thrown themselves at him, for in his mind, it was Morgana or no one. For weeks he had ached for her touch, imagined her in his arms, but now, finally, he would feel her skin on his. It was not a dream any longer.

His heart pounding with anticipation, he placed his hand on her thigh. "Morgana…" he whispered huskily.

Throughout his speech, Morgana had been shirking away from him, while trying to maintain to maintain a bewildered smile on her face. Though she was shocked at his words, little actions and hints that had occurred ever since he had aged began to fall in place, making a perverse kind of sense.

Trying desperately to diffuse his advances, she placed her hand over his on her leg and moved it back to his own knee. Moving forward, she tried to pacify him. She placed her other hand on his shoulder, trying to lightly push him back. "Mordred…while I appreciate your sentiments…This is not becoming of you. I know you have grown fast and you have had to adjust to these new feelings…but I protected you as a child and cared for you as one…now I only wish to do the same." She tried to look into his eyes, searching for that child she had loved. The icy blue eyes, however, were dark with desire and hurt.

Mordred lashed out. "It is because of my form, isn't it? My scarred face scares you…" He looked away from her for the first time.

She felt a twinge of pity for him and brought her hands to his face and pulled him back to face her. She came a little closer, not realizing her mistake. "Of course not, Mordred…that is just your outer appearance. You don't know how much I want to believe that your soul has not been marred as your face has been. That you are still like that child I took under my wing…" She tried once more to appeal to his better nature.

Mordred, however, had waited long enough. He shook his head impatiently, and she released his chin. At that moment, watching her half-afraid, half-disillusioned face, he knew he wanted her at any cost. She was the only one he had ever known…the only woman he had ever loved. His mind could only grasp at one thing: he could not bear the thought of taking anyone but her to his bed. And now that she was in front of him…he _would_ have her.

"Things are different now, Morgana. I am _not_ a child any longer." He spoke forcefully and she fell back, shaken. "I never wanted to hurt you…but you have worn my patience to the utmost. Your every denial only fans the flames of my desire." Even he was surprised by the vehemence of his words; the lust that he had hidden from her and the world under the pretence of protectiveness was now out in the open. Yet, somehow because of this new vulnerability, he was even more dangerous. He felt as though he had released his demons…he felt more reckless than ever.

"And if you don't see it my way…then I'll have to make you."

Without warning, before Morgana could resist, Mordred moved on top of her. His hard armour crushed her against the bed; his hand grazed up her body dangerously to her face to pull her up to meet his lips. She turned her face at the last moment to thwart his advances, and at the same time, brought her knees up as hard as she could.

Caught off guard by her force, Mordred fell off the small cot on the floor as she rolled off on the opposite side. Forgetting her initial plans to humour him to retrieve her magic, she realized that the stakes of the game she was trying to play with him had reached a new level. She knew she could not get what she wanted…not without giving up her self-worth and dignity. She had to escape. But how?

There was only one exit. She ran as fast as she could towards the tent flap, but it was not fast enough; she was tugged backwards. Mordred pulled her against him and though she tried to wriggle free, the feel of her soft curves against him only enticed him further.

Instead of the smoothness of his armour, she realized that what had been crushing against her was the rough jutting edge of the crystal of Neathid. Not understanding how he had managed this new feat, she shuddered as he hissed in her ear.

"Where do you think you are going?" Dragging her to the pole in the middle of the tent, he used magic to bind her wrists behind her to the pole, her feet bound at the ground. She screamed out loud for help, but Mordred only laughed.

He stood in front of her, arms folded. "Morgana, there is no need for all that…after all, who is going to come to your rescue here? Your family is gone. Arthur _knows_ it was you who killed his father. Your sister is dead. And Merlin…Merlin knows how much you care for me. None of them will come…you are all alone, just as I am…"

His callousness silenced her. Though she tried to stand tall and proud against the post, her eyes filled with tears, coming to terms with the truth of his words. Then she looked up, her voice choked with anger and tears. "You're wrong! Arthur will definitely come…you don't know him like I do!" Morgana yelled at him defiantly but even as she spoke, she doubted her own words.

Why would Arthur ever forgive _her_ for bringing about his father's death? Why should he care what became of her? Morgana herself could _never_ forgive Mordred for killing Morgause no matter how much she had disagreed with her sister. Perhaps Arthur felt the same way about her as she felt about Mordred. Perhaps she _was_ beyond redemption in his eyes….

Yet Merlin had befriended Morgana, hadn't he? But a nagging voice contradicted her loudly in her head: _He __never __truly __did __trust __you __did __he? __He __only __needed __your __help __when __Morgause __controlled __the __land__…__he __used __you. __No __one __can __forgive __you, __Morgana. __Perhaps __you, __like __Mordred, __are __beyond __forgiveness__…_

On some twisted level, it hit her that perhaps the only person in this world who would accept her was the monster before her.

Morgana, through her tears, looked into Mordred's frightful eyes. There was no humanity left in them, only an animalistic hunger.

Was this the kind of hell that was reserved for those who betrayed the ones that loved them?

* * *

The camp was alight with fires and the smell of meat filled the air when Merlin teleported a little ways from Mordred's camp. Slowly, Merlin snuck up towards the encampment. He hid behind a rock that jutted out and surveyed the site. He had no trouble spotting the main tent; he was sure that was where Mordred was staying. Not wanting to alert the camp to his presence, he quickly muttered a spell that filled the air with mist.

The magicians shouted in surprise, but before they could utter the counter-spell, Merlin was no more than a few paces from the commander's tent. To his surprise, he heard a high-pitched scream from within the tent and he quickly crouched down. The scream was silenced almost as soon as it had sounded. He pulled the flap of the tent open slightly so he could the proceedings within.

The sight before his eyes shocked him. The words coming out of Morgana's mouth surprised him even further and he was rooted to the spot.

"You're wrong! Arthur will definitely come…you don't know him like I do!"

Merlin observed Morgana's tied limbs and her helpless state and felt instantly guilty for believing that she would be cared for with Mordred. He tried to formulate a plan…he needed to rescue Morgana and acquire the crystal once more. For now, Merlin could see no other option than to wait and assess the situation...looking for weaknesses in Mordred's lair. Ensuring that he was sufficiently camouflaged and that he could not be spotted by any of the magicians, he turned his attention back to the scene...

At Morgana's innocent words, Mordred shook his head. He told himself that it was a good thing that he was there to protect her, for she would never survive with such naiveté. He sighed and moved close to stroke her hair. "No, Morgana, I think I know him much better than you. I, who have been abandoned all my life, save by you…who better than I can understand how you must be feeling now?"

Morgana could not see any escape from her fate, but she knew she would fight him every step of the way. She tried to wrench her head away from his hand but he grabbed a handful of hair and held her there. His face was barely inches from hers. "Come, Morgana, stop fighting what has to be. I am the only one for you. Let me help you…let me ease your pain." And his eyes then dropped from her angry gaze to her lips, and then back up to her eyes. "…and you can ease mine…"

Mordred bent his head, and for one wild moment Merlin thought, bile rising in his throat, that Morgana would actually submit. He could not believe his eyes. A part of him wanted to rush in and tear Mordred apart for even daring to look at her in that way. That same part wanted to kick himself for actually thinking that she would be safe here. But the other part of him, the part that had been hurt by her too many times to count cautioned against it. _What __if_, he thought, his heart sinking…_what __if __this __is __what __she __wants?_

But it was not to be, for the next moment, Morgana, unable to defend herself any other way, spat on Mordred's face. "You _disgust_ me, Mordred. How dare you? I may be completely alone…" Here she choked back a sob, but continued, her eyes flashing. "…but I would rather be that than be with you! Do with me what you will, but know _I_ will _never_ be _yours_."

She ended her speech with her head held high, her chest rising and falling with quick shallow breaths, her body flushed with the extent of her wrath. She waited, her eyes closed, with baited breath, for Mordred to retaliate.

However, when there was no response, she opened her eyes. Mordred, with a bit of a smirk on his face, calmly wiped away her spit with his hand. Continuing to smile with a look in his eyes that inspired even more fear than she had felt before, he began to loosen his armour.

His chest plates fell to the floor and he stood in front of her, in only his trousers and boots, the crystal of Neathid glinting on his muscular chest.

Merlin's eyes widened at the crystal, which was now protruding from his brother's chest; he could tell it was securely embedded in his enemy's skin. He would not be able to steal back the crystal tonight, not without battling and killing Mordred then and there. His fists clenched. Although that thought was not far from his mind as he watched Mordred drink up Morgana's form and lick his lips. Every fibre of Merlin's body wanted to rush in and rip to pieces and it took every inch of his rational mind to stop him. He would not achieve anything by acting rashly…he would have to wait for Mordred to slip up…even for a second and then he would have his chance. He could not afford to fail…not when failure would mean that Morgana would almost certainly suffer a fate worse than death...

Morgana's breath quickened yet again as Mordred loomed over her. Placing one hand on the pillar above her head, he put his other hand firmly on her waist. As she tried to writhe free from his grip and tried to scream again, he whispered a spell to silence her.

Helpless, she glared at him; mouthing curses at him that she would never before have let escape her lips.

Mordred only continued to smile wolfishly and pressed her deeper against the pillar. During their struggles, her nightgown had come undone, and her shoulder was now bare to his lustful gaze. His eyes roamed her body appreciatively. Roughly pushing her black waves aside, he buried his head into her neck...

Merlin's blood was boiling. He made up his mind as to what he was going to do; he could not wait any longer. Perhaps tonight he could not acquire the crystal but he would _not _stand by and watch Morgana helpless to Mordred's dark lust.

Turning his back to the tent, he raised his hand, and began chanting. The fires around the camp went out, and commotion erupted.

Oblivious to what was going on outside, Mordred was lost in the fulfillment of his fantasy. His lips traced the smoothness of her collarbone as she turned her neck away, trying desperately to free herself. Between rough kisses to her skin he spoke. "Has anyone…ever…told you…how breathtaking you are…when you are…"

Merlin heard a rushed pair of footsteps approaching the tent and he quickly ducked out of the way, leaving the path to the entrance of the tent clear.

"_What _is it?" Mordred asked as the magician burst into the tent without warning. Mordred's eyes unwillingly left Morgana but he did not take a step backwards. He still pressed his body against Morgana as he glared at the intruder with a thunderous look on his face.

The magician looked frightened at Mordred's reaction and he stuttered nervously for a few moments. Morgana desperately tried to make eye contact with him through her silent pleas, but the magician ignored her completely.

"My...my lord, Mordred…we had mist…and our fires went out…I think…we think…someone else is here."

Mordred's body froze against Morgana's. She silently cried out in relief.

"Leave us," he commanded.

The magician at once scurried from the tent.

Mordred's ears pricked up like a cat's. "Someone's here," he finally said after a long pause. He finally lifted his head and glared down at her once again. "It's Merlin. I can feel it's him…I sense his presence. Did you call him…?" His voice was low and threatening.

She looked at him with contempt, her eyes speaking what her voice could not. But Mordred did not have time for games.

Pinning her against the pillar he whispered, his hot breath in her ear, "If I find him here, and find out you called him…I _will_ kill him. And make you watch."

Without another word he released her and strode from the tent, not bothering to take his armour.

Morgana breathed heavily in relief; outside the tent she heard Mordred questioning someone about the appearance of the mysterious happenings. She glanced around trying to search internally for her connection with Merlin.

_Was __he __really __here? _But there was nothing. She felt her body loosen, almost ready to give up, her despair paramount. Just then, however, as though they had never been there, her bonds loosened.

She fell forward, losing her balance and gazed around in happiness. Truly, freedom had never tasted so sweet. Thanking the gods for her saviour, whoever he or she was, Morgana slipped underneath the back of the tent, opposite to where Mordred had exited.

Luckily for her, the fires were out, and the whole camp was dark, though many figures were running about. Complete chaos seemed to have broken out.

Not knowing exactly where she was going, she began to run straight for a nearby thicket. Her legs were weak, but she forced herself to run as fast as she could. She recognized Mordred's angry voice amongst others in the distance, and not looking in front of her, she ran straight into a tall figure.

For a moment, the dark hair and blue eyes made her think of Mordred and before she could scream out in fear, the man pulled her close into his arms, and clapped a hand over her mouth as he slid them behind a tree.

Both were breathing heavily as one, and as the magicians continued to run by, the man enveloped her in his cloak.

Green eyes met blue in surprise, relief…and something akin to gratitude.


	23. Chapter 22

**So many paths that wind and wind**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: Happy 2012 everyone! We hope all of you have had a safe and happy holiday season. Hopefully the world doesn't end in 2012...but if it does, you will all be glad to know that we will be done this story by the end of this year. So at least you will have a sense of closure when it comes to our story.*_

_Moving on to more happy things - no wait - this chapter is pretty angsty. Sorry about that. But let us tell you that THIS is the chapter we have been really, really looking forward to writing for a LONG time and oh my, how satisfying it was to finally finish it. You see dear readers...we have planned most things down to the last detail (sort of) so it's really beginning to dawn on us that things are coming to an end. _

_Since the end is swiftly approaching, we would like to take this opportunity to tell you a few random facts. Did you know that our fanfiction is longer than the first Harry Potter book? Come to think of it, it's also longer than the second and third Harry Potter books! If you were wondering, it's about 1/4 the length of the Lord of the Rings series, but we're not going to try compete with that. Another random fact: We've been writing for about 18 months now! That is slightly less than an elephant's gestation time, but a human could have had 2 babies in 18 months!** _

_So next time you think "Why do these kids update so infrequently?" please accept our sincerest apologies and remember our steadfast dedication. _

_In conclusion, after much rambling, we present to you the chapter lovingly entitled "Twas the night before battle." We hope you enjoy it and drop a line if you feel inclined to do so. _

_*The writers of this fanfiction don't ACTUALLY believe the world is going to end in 2012. _

_**The writers of this fanfiction also do not recommend getting pregnant twice in 18 months. That is quite a strain on the human body and even Gaius, the trusty court physician, would not endorse that. _

* * *

**Chapter 22**

Pippin: It's so quiet.

Gandalf: It's the deep breath before the plunge.

Pippin: I don't want to be in a battle. But waiting on the edge of one I can't escape is even worse.

~ Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King

"For all her looks were full of spells,

And all her words, of sorcery;

And in some way they seemed to say,

'Oh, come with me!'

How should he know the wily witch,

With sweet white face and raven hair?

Who, through her art, bewitched his heart

And held him there."

~ Madison Cawein

* * *

Arthur navigated through the familiar hallways in the castle, making his way to his room. He noted here and there that certain changes had been made in his absence: some tapestries had been pulled down, new statues stood in the place of old ones…but on the whole, his home remained very much as he had left it.

He trudged into his old chambers, weary from the day's events. It was hard to believe that just this morning, he had arrived in the castle to pull the sword from the stone, and already, war was upon them. He did not know what he had expected to find when he returned home, but everything was moving fast_…much _faster than he had anticipated and he wasn't sure if he was ready for what was to come.

Arthur thought of the numerous men who rose to the occasion today…thousands and thousands who came to the city volunteering to fight against Mordred's fearsome army of magicians. Some men had been too old to wield a sword and some were not even men…only boys.

While Arthur was making last minute battle plans with his knights, he often saw groups of men making their way to the armoury. When they looked at Arthur, he couldn't help but notice that they gazed upon him with the most trusting expressions…and just for that one moment, the fear seemed to slip off every man's face to be replaced by another emotion...

_Hope_.

Knowing that his entire kingdom relied on his leadership, Arthur realized that it mattered little whether _he_ felt prepared for this moment. He _had _no choice butto be ready.

Trying to calm his nerves, Arthur took a deep breath. The knots in his stomach loosened slightly and Arthur repeatedly told himself that he had done everything he could for today. Now it was important for him to get some rest…

Arthur glanced around his old, untouched room and was surprised to find it so. He had expected Morgause to have either destroyed his quarters, or converted them for another purpose, but instead he found the floor scrubbed clean, the tables and chairs well dusted, and fresh candles giving soft, welcoming light.

Fond memories of a simpler time stirred within him. It had been nearly a year since he had stood in this very spot. So much had changed; his whole world had been turned upside down. For a moment, though, he returned to the past…

He could almost see Merlin jauntily scrubbing his shield in the corner as they bantered back and forth. How fortunate he was that he had such a friend…Merlin could have easily used his magic to put Arthur in his place and yet, all those years, Merlin endured his prince's taunts and had taken it in stride.

Feeling rather sentimental, Arthur resolved to make it up to Merlin no matter what happened the next day. His friend's loyalty wasn't something that he could ever fully repay, but he would try to do his best.

He glanced down at the sword he had claimed today in front of the crowd, and the gleaming blade reminded him of another – a sword was that was much shabbier, but had meant the world to him at the time. His father had presented the child-sized wooden sword to him on his third birthday and Arthur's grip had been attached to his birthday present for years after. He knew that his father had committed more sins than could be counted; but somehow, nowadays the memories that flooded back to him were of a happier shade. He missed his father's presence more than ever especially now that he was back in the castle where Uther had ruled for so long with an iron fist. His father was many things…but no one could deny that he commanded the respect of all who stood before him. Arthur knew that King Uther's leadership led people in the wrong direction, but there was no doubt that his will had been unshakeable. Even though Arthur's convictions lay in a different direction, he hoped they would be as strong as his father's.

Arthur wondered what Uther would think of him if he could see him now…he had grown up considerably since their parting and he could not help but wonder if Uther would have at least been a little proud of him.

Carefully placing the sword of perfect balance on the table, Arthur began to take off his armour. With each clang that sounded as he set down first his chest plates and then his belt, he was reminded of how Morgana would pound her fist on the table, demanding yet another favour from him. She only worded it as a favour, but in reality they both knew she was commanding him.

Even though he never did admit it out aloud, he would have done _anything_ for her. He wondered if she knew that…

Would that have changed her choices?

Even now, it was naïve of him to hope that she would want to come back to him. She had wounded his pride many times before by rejecting his boyish notions, and wanting to regain her approval, he would always go to her and pester her until she would agree to play again. This pattern had continued well into their youth but now…he was no longer that boy. She had injured the man. Arthur understood Morgana better than anyone and he knew she would never say sorry. She never had. And there was no reason it would be any different now. This time, however, _he_ would not take the first step…

Deeply engrossed in his thoughts, Arthur stared down at the table as though he could bore a hole through it with his eyes…

…Gwen hurried along the corridor leading to Arthur's room, her arms laden with fresh sheets. She noticed the door to Arthur's chambers was ajar. Slipping into the room quietly, she found her husband deep in thought, gripping the edge of the table next to him tightly. She smiled fondly at him, as he stood clad in only his tunic and trousers, but with his boots still on. Gwen was impressed to see that his armour had been laid down neatly, and the sword – which she recognized as the one from her father's armoury that she had given to Merlin so long ago – lay almost reverently in the dead centre of the table.

"Arthur," she ventured softly. He did not hear her the first time so she called again, a little louder. "Arthur?"

He glanced up, suddenly shaken out of his reverie. "Gwen!" he exclaimed. Her face was drawn, but she gave him a small smile when their eyes met. During this past year, Arthur believed that he had transformed beyond recognition in mind…but his physical appearance had changed also. Living outside of the castle comforts had not been easy on him: he had a general rugged appearance now. His hair was often unkempt, his face weather-beaten and his hands rough from the trials of doing physical labour. However, his Gwen looked much the same as before save for a small protrusion in her midsection…a small bump that brought endless joy to Arthur. Perhaps, it was because she had always been used to hard work, but the last year had only strengthened her spirit and, in Arthur's opinion, she looked just as lovely as she always had.

He moved closer to her and placing his hand on her shoulder, he kissed her on her temple lightly. "I have missed you. I had gotten used to you being no more than a few tents away from me and today…I haven't seen you since the morning." Just seeing her pleasant face calmed Arthur down considerably. He smiled genuinely down at her. "How was your day, my dearest?" Arthur asked.

Gwen returned his smile and relaxed in his embrace for a moment. "They do say that absence makes the heart grow fonder," she quipped. "I must say…it is a bit unnerving being back in Camelot…"

Arthur looked down at Gwen's bent but outstretched arms carrying sheets, which were separating him from his wife. "Is there a reason why your arms are full of fresh sheets while there is a war looming?" Arthur asked half-jokingly. He knew instinctively that the clean room was her doing, and he wanted to tell Gwen that there was no need for her to do these tasks anymore…she was his _wife _now, but he knew Gwen well enough to respect that she was a humble, gracious woman who would never let anyone do for her what she could do for herself.

She did not answer right away. Stepping away from Arthur, Gwen carried the sheets towards the bed. She had only reached Arthur's room an hour earlier, exhausted from her trials of the day. She had found the room unchanged, but collecting dust for the past few months, and could not stop herself. Just for one night, she wanted for Arthur and her to share a moment of normality before the world came crashing in around them tomorrow… and it would not do to have this room remain in such a state. Though she was tired, she had taken it upon herself to make these chambers fit for habitation.

"After sleeping on the ground for so long, _you_ may not care how many layers of dust you sleep on…but from now on, I will be sleeping here too… and _I _will be needing fresh sheets," Gwen said matter-of-factly.

Arthur couldn't stop the smile from appearing on his face. This was just one of the reasons why he loved her. The sky may be threatening to collapse on them, but Gwen always had a knack for cheering him up and helping him focus on the moment. She took the largest bed sheet from her pile and shook it out as Arthur quickly came towards her and grabbed the other edge.

"We can't have my Lady Guinevere unhappy now…can we?" His eyes twinkled as they met hers.

They said nothing as they tucked the sheet under the corners of the mattress and for a few moments, they just took comfort in the presence of each other's company.

It was nearing midnight and their part of the castle was quiet, the knights wanting to make sure that their king got some well-deserved rest before the next day. Other areas were alive with people bustling in and out with weapons, food, and supplies. The dungeons were filled with townspeople who had fled there for protection and they all clutched their rags trying to find some precious sleep. Meanwhile in the courtyard and lower town, the thousands of men who had arrived from all over the kingdom had set up camp. Even at this late hour, they were busy sharpening swords, adjusting armour and trading fighting strategies.

Few had the luxury of a peaceful moment like that which Guinevere and Arthur now shared in their chambers.

As soon as the bed was made, Arthur flopped onto the mattress face-down, his body giving out with exhaustion.

Gwen laughed at his boyish action as she bent to pick up the pillows they had tossed on the ground. As she arranged them at the head of the bed, she asked, "So…are your military preparations complete?"

Arthur sighed heavily and flipped over, propping himself onto an elbow. "We have done all that we can. We have the manpower and some basic strategies put together. As for the skill…" Arthur knew it would be a tough fight, but he did not want to dwell on what he could not change overnight. "Let us leave it at that. Only tomorrow will we know if it will be enough."

Gwen climbed on the bed and lay down next to Arthur, leaning on her elbow to face him. She brushed his golden hair back from his face. "Don't worry…it will be. I know that every man, woman and child of Camelot will do everything in their power to fight for their freedom and for all that you represent. Have faith in yourself, Arthur…I know I do."

Heavily, he responded, "I do have faith in myself, Gwen…but that is only because I have the best people around me. You. The knights. Merlin…" He was almost about to add Morgana to the list of names out of habit…but he stopped himself. He wondered whether to tell Gwen that Merlin might be able to bring back Morgana, but the uncertainty of that was high, and so he chose not worry her needlessly. As it was, he was concerned enough that Merlin hadn't returned from Mordred's camp yet. Assuring himself that Merlin could take care of himself, he forced his face into a smile and placed his hand on Gwen's arm. "Enough about me…tell me about your day."

His elbow began to feel numb and he lay down his head on top of his hands, still looking in Gwen's direction.

She moved closer and put her warm, calloused hands on Arthur's shoulders. She said in a singsong tone, "Oh, my poor husband…so tired…" Slowly she began to rub Arthur's shoulders in a soothing manner as she spoke. "As you asked me to, I have secured the servant's quarters and dungeons as living apartments for the women and children from the lower town. The people began to arrive in the early afternoon after hearing your announcement. Your people are thankful that you have offered them security within the castle." She did not tell Arthur that it had been tiring work to organize these efforts. Her body ached, she had remained on her feet all day and Gaius had told her that in her state, it was natural to feel tired after even a small amount of physical activity. But she had braved on, for all their sakes. "I have left Elaine and the headsman from her village to oversee everything there. And of course, Gaius has set up his makeshift healing quarters in the Great Hall." Gwen paused at this point and added uncertainly, "If Mordred's army should get into the city…" She had not intended to voice her doubts aloud, but somehow it slipped out.

At Gwen's words, Arthur sat up suddenly and took her hand tightly in his. "That is _not_ going to happen as long as I am alive." He looked deeply into her eyes, afraid to say the next words…but he spoke them at last. "But…if they do manage to overpower us…"

Gwen's face fell at Arthur's words. They both knew that what he had really meant to say was "if I should be killed..." She could not bear the thought…

Arthur had stopped speaking upon noting his wife's stricken face, but he recovered his composure quickly. "If they overpower us…I will leave enough of my best men here to safeguard the castle for a few hours. During that time, you must promise to lead the people through the secret passages in the dungeons out of the city and make for Mercia. My messenger from King Bayard arrived at court today and Mercia will take you in as refugees…"

This was little comfort to Arthur and Gwen for both knew that Mercia would not be able to contain Mordred's army if he turned his sights there next.

Their foreheads met as Gwen said solemnly, "I will do _everything_ you ask of me if that time ever comes, but I refuse to face that moment until it happens. Arthur, you have so much to live for…our child, your kingdom…me." Gwen felt tears forming in her eyes, but she blinked them away furiously. She _had _to be strong. "Don't even think about leaving us," she whispered fiercely.

Arthur said nothing, but his grip on her tightened. He pulled her closer into his arms, focussing on nothing else but her warmth. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to forget everything, but her quiet voice jolted him back to the present.

"Today I went to visit my old home…" Gwen had hurried off to her small hut as soon as she found a spare moment. She had wanted to retrieve some of her old belongings and cherish a moment with memories of the past. "Inside, I found a young, poor family who had moved in during my absence. They saw me and graciously welcomed me into my own home and offered me a drink with my own cups. 'My lady' they called me." Gwen's voice shook with emotion as she recalled how strange that moment had felt. She had finally admitted something to herself…the fact that she had fallen in love with a Prince had changed _everything_. She would have perhaps been one of the scared women clutching a thin blanket in the dungeons this very moment had she married a commoner. Instead she had wed Arthur Pendragon. While it brought her the privilege of this bed…it also meant that she had no escape.

"Things change, Arthur. Seeing my home from such a different perspective…I realized then how fleeting time is. How things can change so quickly…we have to value every moment we have," Gwen finished softly.

Arthur stroked her hair lovingly. "That must be hard…to see other people where you used to live." He thought of her cozy home fondly…after all, that was where it had begun for the two of them. "Gwen, remember that _this_ is your home now…here…and in my heart."

She raised her head up, and his lips met hers in a tender kiss. They broke apart and she nestled her head under his neck as he held her, rocking her slightly.

They did not know how much time passed, but an urgent knock sounded at the door.

"Enter," Arthur said as he rose to his feet. He knew it had to be important, for the knights had insisted that they would not disturb him unless absolutely necessary.

The door swung open and Merlin strode in, looking tired and dishevelled, but with a satisfied gleam in his eye.

Arthur sighed in relief to see Merlin home safely and made his way to the entrance of his chambers where Merlin stood. Arthur was struck once again by how different Merlin looked in his darker, more sombre clothes, and yet how they seemed to suit him in an odd way. Truth be told, it was not only the clothes; Merlin himself looked different. He appeared older and wiser, though Arthur would have laughed at that notion a year ago. Merlin's dark hair was longer and slightly unruly and he even had a hint of a dark beard, which gave him a much more solemn expression. The cheeky grin that often grazed Merlin's face was gone. Arthur hoped it would return after Merlin recovered from the loss of his dear mother, Hunith.

Gwen also came forwards to greet their friend, unaware of Merlin's impromptu trip to Mordred's camp.

Sliding an arm around Gwen's waist, Arthur asked, "Was your journey successful? Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Not exactly. But I found what I needed to."

He moved out of the way of the door and at Merlin's words, a shadow hesitantly stepped into the room. She clutched Merlin's cloak around her shoulders, but the heavy folds of fabric could not hide the tears in her dress, nor her haunted expression.

Before Arthur could say a word, Gwen impulsively ran forward and swung her arms around her old mistress, crying out in relief. "Morgana! You're back," she yelped in an unnaturally high-pitched tone.

Morgana's eyes stung with tears at Gwen's openly affectionate reaction that was untainted by judgement or the distance that had separated them for so long. She tentatively placed one arm around Gwen's shoulders and closing her eyes, held onto her tightly, as though she was drowning and Gwen was her only support. Her momentary relief did not last long for when her eyes opened she found herself staring straight into her worst nightmare. All this time, she had both looked forward to and dreaded their reunion. She was not scared of Arthur yelling at her or throwing things at her. In fact, she would have welcomed that reaction…but _this _she could not bear. His accusing eyes were filled with the deepest sadness, as though he did not even know her…as though she was beyond redemption in his eyes.

What else _could _she have expected from him? She had knowingly caused his father's death and had unwittingly handed over his rightful place on the throne to her tyrant of a sister. She swallowed, not sure what to say, or do.

Arthur, likewise, was at a loss for words. When he had told Merlin that Morgana would be welcomed back if she wished…he had meant it…or so he thought. But seeing her before him was an entirely different matter. He wasn't prepared for this. Before Morgana had entered the room, he had thought about reconciliation and how they would be able to move past and resolve their issues…but having her before him in the flesh triggered all the memories of their loyal, but dysfunctional family. He thought of the past year during which Morgause had tormented his people. He thought of the burning villages that had been Morgause's doing. He remembered how _everything_ could be traced back to Morgana's interference. Arthur could not remember a time when Morgana had not been a part of his life. But, shehad forced changes that were too drastic to come back from, and, with a stab, he wondered if there was a place for her in his life anymore. And that was why he just stared her, not saying a word.

Unsurprisingly, Gwen showed more tactfulness than either of the two men in the room. She had noted her husband's stony wall of silence as well Morgana's deeply unsettled demeanour, and at once, her feminine instinct told her that Morgana had been through something terrible…that now was not the time to air grievances, but rather to heal and prepare for tomorrow. For now, it was enough for Gwen that Morgana had chosen to return to them…

Morgana finally willed herself to open her mouth to speak, but no words could be found to express everything she wanted to say. "I am…Arth-" but she could not utter his name.

Merlin looked back and forth between the two stubborn figures. He wondered now whether it had been a good idea to bring Morgana here directly. Perhaps he should have warned Arthur first and let Morgana rest after her ordeal. However, before he could open his mouth, Gwen was already speaking.

Gently as always, Gwen came to the rescue. "Hush…" she interrupted soothingly. "It is enough for now that you have come back to us. Let us get you cleaned up." After shooting her husband a concerned look, her eyes met Merlin's and he reassured her with his gaze that he would deal with Arthur.

Just for tonight, the four of them had returned to their old roles.

* * *

Gwen rolled up her sleeves and lifted the bucket that the servant had brought upon her request to Morgana's chambers. She dismissed the maidservant with a nod of thanks, and turning around, she poured the warm water into the bath. Morgana stood beside her with a blank expression on her face, still holding tightly onto Merlin's cloak. Gently, Gwen took the cloak from Morgana, and helped her out of her nightdress. She guided her into the warm water and Morgana did not put up any resistance along the way.

However, as soon as Morgana was immersed in the water, the traumatized woman grabbed the bar of soap from Gwen's hands and began to scrub furiously as though possessed. Morgana was scrubbing her skin with so much force that Gwen caught her hand and exclaimed, "Morgana, careful! You are going to take your skin off."

Morgana's eyes met Gwen's and she could not hold it in any longer. While Gwen looked fatigued and worried, she had an unmistakable aura of wholesomeness. Morgana's entire reality was shattered by the day's happenings and she could not imagine herself ever becoming whole again. Though she wanted to, she knew she could never scrub away the pain of what had happened to her, erase the past few hours. Suddenly, she burst into uncontrollable tears and her body shook with sobs.

Gwen knelt by the bathtub and quietly took the soap from Morgana's hands. Taking her former mistress's hair into her own hands, she began to wash it like she used to in the days of old. Slowly, Morgana's tears began to subside and she regained her composure.

She moved her head away from Gwen and said in a soft voice, "You don't have to do this anymore. You are not my handmaiden…you are the Queen now…"

Gwen's response was immediate. "I am foremost your friend." She took Morgana's hair back into her own and Morgana was too exhausted to protest…

…She did not say a word and Gwen did not push her until she was dressed and was combing through Morgana's long tresses. Morgana sat at her usual spot before the dressing mirror while Gwen stood above her combing through her hair. Gwen's body screamed in protest with every stroke…but she kept going because Morgana needed her support more than Gwen needed rest.

Thus far, the once first lady of Camelot had avoided looking at her reflection and now she chanced a glance upwards. Her reflection stared back at her and she could not match how she felt inside to the porcelain face in the mirror. How could someone go through as much as she had in one day, and have no physical mark to show for it?

Unable to face herself, she abruptly turned her head away. Gwen felt the tug on the hair she was braiding and she placed her hand on Morgana's neck to guide her face back to the centre. Morgana flinched as Gwen's fingers brushed the very spot, which only a few hours ago had been burnt by Mordred's lips.

Noticing her reaction, Gwen came around to face Morgana whose eyes were now downcast. She crouched so that she was at her friend's level and she placed her hands in Morgana's. As kindly as she could, she said, "Morgana…I know something has hurt you terribly. And you don't have to tell me now…or ever…but –"

Morgana interrupted her and looked up to meet Gwen's warm, brown eyes. "No, Gwen. I cannot face this alone." She didn't know if she would be able to express the pain – the hurt she felt. But she had to try.

"I am here for you as I always was, Morgana," Gwen said simply. Guinevere called upon her own will power. She was mentally, physically, emotionally drained, but she refused to let even a touch of her own fatigue or doubts enter her voice, imagining how she would feel if she was in Morgana's position. Gwen knew the true definition of friendship, and it was marked by her actions in this moment. She left Morgana's side only for a second to draw up a small stool that had been standing by the bed, and sitting down, she took her former mistress's shaking hands into her steady ones.

* * *

"What is WRONG with me?" Arthur bellowed, as he punched the bed frame. His hand throbbed, but he did not care. It was a satisfying pain. "I shouldn't have told you to go get her. I should have left her alone…she deserves nothing better!" Arthur spat with frustration.

Merlin could understand Arthur's anger as he had felt the same up until now, so folding his arms, he let the ranting, which had been continuously streaming out of Arthur's mouth since Gwen had taken Morgana from the room, carry on.

"…I can't believe her! She comes back here as though nothing has happened…" He broke off, almost angry that his own wife had abandoned his side in favour of her old mistress. Rather irrelevantly, Arthur remembered the days when Morgana and Gwen would laugh about him behind his back. Infuriated by this thought, he kicked one of his old boots lying on the floor to the other side of the room.

"She killed my father…and I am letting her stay under my roof?" Arthur said angrily. He was so furious with himself, and would have broken more objects in the room to relieve his frustration, if he didn't know that it would not help one bit. If anything, he would only cause himself more injuries.

Calming himself with a deep breath, rather tiredly he said, "Merlin…the trouble is that I am a pathetic excuse for a son." He thought about it. It was really _that_, which bothered him about Morgana's arrival and he tried to word it as best he could to Merlin. "You see, I neither have the courage to be ruthless and banish her as my father would have; and nor do I have the generosity of my mother's spirit to forgive her and accept her wholeheartedly."

Merlin sensed his friend's conflict and concluded that Arthur was finally ready to listen to what he had to say. Arthur's angry outbursts, though extreme, never lasted very long. He knew that it wasn't just Morgana that had brought out Arthur's frustrations. The war loomed over Arthur like an angry storm cloud and his friend had simply sought shelter by venting his frustrations on Morgana.

Arthur heavily sat down on the bed, and looked towards Merlin helplessly. "How could she do this to us? I loved her. Uther loved her as his own daughter."

At last, Merlin came to Morgana's defence. Stepping forwards, he said to the despondent man, "A few hours ago, I would have agreed with every word you said. I believed that she was no longer your well-wisher after what she had done. But the truth is, Arthur, I have stayed here during your absence and never once has her loyalty to you wavered. When she believed you were dead, under my disguise, I watched her sitting on this very same bed…crying for _you_."

Arthur looked surprised at Merlin's words, but then reverted to his initial reaction. "So she mourned my death maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that she _killed _my father and then handed over the kingdom to Morgause." Arthur repeated again, "She was a part of my family. We loved her."

Patiently, Merlin said, "And she loves you too. Don't be so harsh on her. You do not know how much she suffered here during Morgause's rule. You say that she murdered your father, and it _is_ true that she had a hand in his death…but would Uther not have killed her if he had known she possessed magic?"

Arthur tried to speak, but Merlin held up his hand.

"I am not trying to justify her actions," he said. "I just want you to know – she believed she was doing the right thing, standing up for people who had magic…people like me. You, too, over these months have been fighting for those without rights in this kingdom. Is that so different from what Morgana tried to do?"

Arthur had nothing to say to this. He contemplated Merlin's words closely.

"Even then, once she realized her mistake, she tried to protect those in need by freeing wrongly accused prisoners and distributing food to the hungry." Merlin's words had started out with the intention to bring comfort to Arthur, but as he was speaking, he realized that he was talking to himself as much as Arthur. Though Merlin and Morgana had rebuilt some elements of their original friendship over the recent months in Camelot, when Merlin thought that she had been in league with Mordred earlier in the morning…it had shattered everything they had worked to create. But now, he was rediscovering his respect for the woman who had for so long been a mystery and a torment to him.

"I didn't know…" Arthur said slowly. "I didn't realize that she was helping our cause." He sat with his chin in his hands, elbows digging into his thighs.

"That is the least of what she did. Once she uncovered my guise, she not only kept my secret from her half-sister but also was able to acquire for me the crystal of Neathid. That is the instrument with which I protected the people of Camelot, when Morgause cast her spell this morning. Morgana knew it would help to enhance my powers, giving our side an advantage. But Mordred took the crystal from me when I was defenceless – grieving over my mother." Merlin did not hesitate, and though his heart was still throbbing with pain, somehow, he forced his mind to dull the ache. His duty was to Arthur now and it was not the time to let his emotions take over. "And that is what I went to recover from him," he finished.

A small part of Arthur's mind became interested in the crystal for his father had told him of the crystal's powers, but he still could not let go of the original topic of concern.

He looked at Merlin's pale but alert face, and suddenly became very shrewd. There was more to this story. With some curiosity, he questioned, "When you left, you did not seem too keen on bringing back my foster sister. You say you went to retrieve the crystal and now you return empty-handed singing Morgana's praises. What happened?"

Merlin's expression, which so far had remained composed, became thunderous in an instant. He looked angrier than Arthur had ever seen him and it would have been frightening had Arthur not known Merlin's innate goodness.

"I…you're right. I thought that when Morgana had run to greet Mordred that she had chosen him over us. And I was furious…I felt betrayed. But then…when I arrived at Mordred's tent…the sight before my eyes made want to…" Merlin's fists were clenched and he was so enraged he could not complete his sentence.

His tone of voice made Arthur rise to his feet. "Merlin. What happened?"

* * *

After a lengthy pause, Morgana began. "I…I have been so wrong about everything. I have made so many mistakes." She choked back sobs as she searched for the appropriate words. "Maybe…today was sent to me as punishment for my sins. I chose the wrong side, Gwen. I abandoned the ones that truly loved me in favour of personal vengeance and my own misguided naivety." She decided to start at the beginning, since she didn't think she could describe what Mordred had done to her…just yet. She didn't know if she would be able to make Gwen understand…

She began with what was easier to say. "I had known for some time after Morgause took over the kingdom that her ideals did not match mine…I wanted Arthur to be King with all my heart but I thought him to be dead." Morgana sniffed. "You know how much we fought, but you also know that I loved him, that he meant so much to me! You must believe that I tried to help the people as much as I could…but in honesty, I could do very little because I had no real power. I had nowhere to go and I was forced to obey. And today…" Morgana closed her eyes and tears spilled out from under her lids. "Today I saw Morgause die before my very eyes, and though…I feel sad for the loss of my sister...I am almost relieved that she is no longer Queen."

She looked guilty, to admit her disloyalty to her half-sister in death, to the woman who she knew to be loyal beyond expectation. But Gwen only gave Morgana a sympathetic look and squeezed her hand. "No matter what she did, she was still your sister and bonds of blood are hard to break. I know you meant well, Morgana. I have known you since we were children and you always acted with the best of intentions." Gwen was surprised that she was able to forgive Morgana so readily. Then again, they shared a childhood bond. Gwen had seen Morgana on her good days and her bad…and she knew that Morgana's heart was in the right place. That was ultimately what mattered most in Gwen's eyes.

Morgana gave a sardonic laugh. "And look where that got me!" She roughly pulled down the shoulder of her nightdress and revealed the reddened finger imprints that would surely bruise in the following days. Then realizing that she had said too much, that she was not ready to tell Gwen yet, she quickly pulled her sleeve back up and looked away, not wanting to meet her friend's shocked eyes.

Gwen had noticed the marks earlier but she had not commented on them though she had a sneaking suspicion of what had happened to her dearest friend. And now, she wisely said nothing, waiting for Morgana to speak when she was ready. Instead, she quietly took the rest of Morgana's braid into her hands and finished weaving the locks together, tying the ends. As she regarded Morgana's distressed face, she hoped against hope her suspicion had been wrong.

Morgana, meanwhile, was filled head-to-toe with shame and embarrassment. She sought Gwen's comfort, but also did not want to have to ask for it. When she could stand the silence no longer, she let the words spill out, without thought for their propriety or what Gwen would think. "Gwen…you were right to be wary of that young Druid boy we helped so long ago. I should have listened to you, but I was headstrong. And the bond I felt…" Morgana shuddered as she remembered the motherly tie she had felt connecting her soul to Mordred's. He had tarnished, desecrated that memory forever. "I should have known what a monster he would become! The Mordred I knew is gone…and in his place there is a _beast_," Morgana spat with anger.

Gwen shook her head in disbelief, in support of her friend. Taking Morgana's hand in hers again, and she squeezed it tightly. "Arthur told me how cruel he has become. But from the moment you saved that boy's life, his gratitude towards you was beyond compare. I saw it with my own eyes. No matter what he did to others, I knew…I mean, I thought that he could never hurt _you_."

Morgana pulled her hands away from Gwen's and covered her face in despair. "So did I. But today he has broken every bond we shared with his…" Getting the words out was now like extracting poison, excruciating, but necessary. "With his…unbridled _lust_ for me. He tried to force himself on me..." Morgana didn't know if Gwen would understand her meaning, but she felt she could not be any clearer than that.

Gwen gasped. "Oh Morgana…" She could not find fitting words. She wished she could have been there to protect her friend and anger clouded even pure Gwen's mind, as she thought of the atrocities of the young Mordred.

Such a young man, and such heinous crimes! Surely the gods have thrown the dice without thought or care for what was at stake.

Gwen quickly covered the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Morgana's trembling body.

* * *

Merlin finally had spat out to Arthur what he had witnessed at Mordred's camp. What he saw Mordred doing to Morgana…

Now, the two men were both imagining horrible ways to end Mordred's life. Arthur knew he was fighting this war for his people, but what Merlin had just told him made the war a personal battle.

Within the haze of his anger, Arthur realized that in spite of everything that had transpired between him and Morgana, she was still family. For it did not matter what she had done to him, the fact that Mordred had dared to lay a hand on her meant that he would pay.

Arthur had begun to pace around the bed, in no particular direction. No matter how furious he was about Morgana's actions, he knew he could never cast her aside. Perhaps…when all this was over, they could try and pick up the pieces to heal their relationship.

"Why didn't you tell me this before? And why did you leave Mordred…alive? You have magic! You should have … torn him apart," Arthur said with uncharacteristic viciousness.

"You think I didn't want to?" Merlin asked with gritted teeth. "He had the crystal. It was embedded in his very flesh. I could not have faced him tonight alone." Merlin had the sense to know that Mordred would not have hesitated to kill him and Merlin's premature death would only have resulted in another blow for Arthur's cause. "Tomorrow, together, we must separate the crystal from Mordred or his magic will overpower mine and lead us to certain defeat."

Defeat was not an option.

Arthur set his jaw. "How do we do that?"

* * *

Gwen cradled Morgana as they both internally tried to find meaning in what had happened. Still seated, Morgana clung onto to Gwen's standing figure tightly, letting her tears roll as Gwen fumed in silent anger.

When Morgana was ready to speak again, she continued. "Of all the things that have gone wrong…this is the one thing I will never be able to explain or accept. Was it something that I did to ignite this idea in him?" She couldn't help the feeling of personal responsibility weighing in her mind.

Gwen's heart ached for her friend. "Morgana…there is nothing that you did or could have done, that I am sure of. Sometimes the twists of fate are not always within the grasp of our understanding."

Morgana spoke directly into Gwen's stomach, wetting Gwen's dress with her tears. "If Merlin hadn't come in time to rescue me…those 'twists of fate' would have claimed me completely. Even now, I feel completely disillusioned and disarmed…how could I face myself if it had gone any further? As it is, I cannot even look myself in the mirror. I want to escape my body…escape this hell." She looked up at Gwen, feeling lost and pathetic.

Gwen's words were empowering, however. Stroking back Morgana's hair, she said encouragingly, "I cannot say that I know how you feel but you are the strongest person I know and you _will _come through us. What Mordred did does not define you, Morgana…"

Bitterness overtook her. "Oh, but it does, Gwen. That is where you are wrong. He – he took my magic. _That_ is what defined me. The one thing that made me special. I am just a shell of who I was without it," Morgana said in a hollow voice. She still could not believe her magic was gone…it had all happened so fast.

"Oh, my lady!" Gwen's old words slipped out, from habit, and though she did not fully understand the repercussions of Mordred's actions, she spoke honestly. "I am ever so sorry for all you have been through." She didn't know if there was anything she could say or do to make Morgana feel herself again.

Morgana regained at least an element of her equanimity at Gwen's heartfelt apology. She shook herself. She had no right to bring Gwen's morale down, no matter what she had been through, when tomorrow was the day of reckoning for all of them. "It is _I_ who should be sorry. You never caused any of my pain, Gwen, but I caused all of yours."

"That's not true, Morgana, and it is _not_ all bad. You have come back to us now and we are going to win this war." Gwen truly believed her own words then. Something about having Morgana back gave Gwen courage and hope. "We will build a kingdom that everyone will be proud to call their own." She put her hand on her stomach. "A future that is worthy of every child…"

Morgana did not say anything, but she understood. For the first time that day, a shadow of a smile crossed her face through her tears. She was happy for Gwen…and she noticed the weight in her stomach lessen as she thought of her foster brother as a father.

Gwen raised Morgana's chin. "Really, Morgana. It's not all bad. It's a new life now. _You_ have a new life now."

She guided Morgana's hand to her own stomach.

"The nightmare is over," Gwen said with certainty even though doubt lingered in her mind.

* * *

In Arthur's chambers, he and Merlin now sat at one end of the long table and for the past half hour had been discussing the best way to reacquire the crystal and use Merlin's magic to their advantage. Merlin had explained to Arthur the powers of Dragonlords and how he would have appeal to the small part of the dragon's soul that still remained within Mordred.

When Gwen tiptoed in, she found her husband and her friend deeply engrossed in conversation. She cleared her throat and they both looked up at her.

Merlin gave her a small smile. "How is she?" he asked. He did not want to show on his face how worried he was for Morgana. For Arthur's sake, he had been trying to project confidence. He knew Arthur had been doing the same in front of his people all day…but in this room, Merlin felt that Arthur should be able to voice his insecurities and for that Merlin had to remain tenacious.

"As well as can be," Gwen replied, a little sadly. She looked at her husband who looked much calmer than when she had left him, and the softness on his face as she spoke told her that Merlin had shared what had happened to Morgana, and that Arthur felt terrible about it. She made a mental note to thank Merlin later for his wise counsel.

"I'm going to bed," Gwen said as she stifled a yawn. "I hope you will come to bed soon, Arthur."

"We're done here anyway," Merlin said quickly as he rose to his feet. There was no point in discussing what they had already talked about over and over again. Everything that needed to be said had been said, and now it was time for Merlin to take his leave.

"Goodnight then, Merlin" Gwen said. She came towards him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for…everything."

Gwen disappeared behind the dressing screen to change into her nightclothes.

Arthur and Merlin looked at each other and Arthur clasped his dearest friend's forearm. The warlock took this opportunity and whispered urgently to Arthur. "I know your mind is clouded by emotion…but there is only one thing you should focus on. Tomorrow, you are going to lead this kingdom into a new age. And you _cannot_ fail."

Arthur acknowledged Merlin's word with a swift nod. "I may be destined to lead these people into battle, but the crown would not be on my head if it weren't for you," Arthur said tensely.

Merlin had already done so much for Arthur…and Arthur knew that much of what Merlin had done was still unknown to him. The once and future king looked down at the shining sword on the table. "I know it was you, who put the sword in the stone, who spread the rumours."

Merlin smiled, but shook his head. "It's not my doing, Arthur. I only adjusted the circumstances a bit." He remembered how the sword had initially been forged by the Great Dragon. "The sword…it belongs to you. No other man is supposed to wield it. It was made for you. And you proved it today. Excalibur has found its rightful master. One that is just, brave, and kind, that will make each of the sword's actions be in the name of truth and all that is right. The crown is yours because of that."

Each man could sense the weight of the moment. And as each second passed by, it brought them all closer to the moment of reckoning tomorrow.

Arthur reverted to what he did best when the tension became too much for him. In an attempt to diffuse the stress, Arthur joked, "The crown probably wouldn't have fit my head if you hadn't deflated it anyway."

"Don't speak too soon, Arthur," Merlin said with a weak smile. "You don't have the crown on your head yet." After a pause, Merlin remembering brighter times added, "And even when you are king, you will always remain a royal…prat."

Arthur smiled genuinely and gave Merlin a friendly slap on the back. "See you tomorrow. Get some rest, Merlin."

As Merlin departed, he closed the door behind him.

Wearily, Arthur made his way to the bed and pulling his boots off, climbed under the covers without changing. His eyes were ready to close as soon as his head hit the pillow, but they opened out of habit when he felt Gwen lay down beside him after blowing out all the candles.

She settled down, trying to make herself comfortable on the foreign, luxurious bed. Rejecting all the fluffy pillows, Gwen took her husband's arm and tucked it under her head and contently settled her head on his shoulder.

"I am proud of you for doing what I could not," said Arthur, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He did not give any context, but Gwen understood.

She replied, "It _will_ take time, Arthur. But I am certain that you and Morgana will find each other again."

"No matter what happens tomorrow, my love, I am glad I found you."

"And I you," replied Gwen sweetly.

Arthur inclined his head to kiss her and to his surprise, she responded with more energy than he felt at the moment. It was as though she felt the finality of this night and together they sank deeper into the sheets.

* * *

_Mordred tossed and turned on his hard cot, recalling how Morgana's body had laid in the very same spot. He knew that Merlin had taken her from him and he had sworn to the gods at that moment that he would make his half-brother rue the day he was born. _

_Tomorrow, he would make every last man, woman and child of Camelot pay for Merlin's treachery. Mordred was past the point of caring about what happened to this kingdom...getting rights for those with magic...winning the battle. All those ideas of grandeur were far from his mind. He just wanted to watch them burn, all of them, and if he got consumed in the flames…then so be it. _

I will be united with Morgana whether in heaven…or in hell_, Mordred vowed to himself. _

* * *

_Gwen had her back turned to Arthur and he knew that she, like him, was still awake. Absently, he traced her spine on her bare back. He was exhausted, but somehow, sleep was not coming._

_Perhaps it was because of the heavy burden that was crushing his shoulders…_

_All day he had projected the image of steadfast calm to instil courage in his people, but now as he lay in the dark, all of his fears loomed before him. He had read about great heroes of the past who led their armies into battle even when they had little hope to succeed. It had always seemed as though those men were the most confident and unshakeable leaders…_

_But had they ever felt like he did now? _

_That tomorrow they might lose. That he might be responsible for the shattered dreams of an entire kingdom. That he might die and leave his wife and unborn child to the mercy of the merciless. _

_From somewhere within him, the Great Dragon's words echoed in his mind. _

_"Years will pass, the walls of Camelot will crumble and fall to ruin…pages of history will turn into myth. Yet, Camelot will live on forever, as the legendary land of King Arthur. Though one day people may wonder whether you truly existed in the flesh, they will never question your legacy."_

_Desperately, he clung onto those words hoping that they would give him strength and very slowly he drifted into an uneasy sleep. _

* * *

_Gaius slipped under the thin covers and his body ached with the long day's work. The Great Hall was drafty and he drew the blankets closer. He had decided to sleep in the newly made makeshift healing quarters with the other healers that had volunteered to help in tomorrow's battle. _

_He did not know whether they were truly healers or just cowards unable to face death and destruction…but he had spent enough time as a physician to know that there was no less gore behind the scenes of battle. _

_During the Great Purge, Gaius had seen more devastation than any man should have had to bear and here he was again on the brink of another war. This time, who knew what the result would be? Even if Arthur won, Gaius knew that it would come at a terrible price. _

_It always did. _

* * *

_Gwen felt Arthur's hand finally still on her back and she was grateful that at least her husband would get some rest this night. It was impossible for Gwen, however, because she felt as though she was going to be sick with worry._

_The silk sheets felt strange under her skin. She changed positions, trying to get comfortable. Gwen had never been used to such luxury and it was an odd thought that either this would be her first of many nights in this bed, or her first and last night here. _

_For the fourth time that day, she felt a somersault in her stomach and clutched her belly where her unborn child was as restless as she was. Her heart fluttered with both joy and fear. She had not told Arthur about their baby's first movements because she knew that it would make what he stood to lose that much more real. _

_Tomorrow, she knew she would be pushed aside while the men went to battle. The Gwen of old would have protested at that and declared that she had as much a right to fight as any...even though her talent in the battlefield was limited. But now, Gwen was slowly beginning to realize that her role was just as important. Tonight had proved that to her. _

_She was the rock that everyone relied on and she could not afford to falter for their sakes. _

* * *

_Morgana lay stiffly in her pristine sheets that Gwen had kindly laid on her bed. Tonight she owed Gwen everything…her loyal words and caring touch had at least brought Morgana to a point where she was no longer experiencing everything as though outside her body. She was now in her skin…but still trapped. _

_The look that Arthur had given her had pierced her soul. She could only hope as Gwen had reassured her that with time she would re-forge old bonds…but that would only be if the world did not fall to ruin tomorrow. She would never be able repay her debt if it did…_

_Why had she not placed her trust where it was deserved instead of impulsively grasping for what seemed novel and exciting at the time? The entire battle was because of her. Her conscience could not bear the responsibility for an entire kingdom going to war!_

…_Many minutes later, Morgana still lay restlessly under the covers. She could find no answers to her questions…she could find no solace. She made up her mind to go to the one person who had the answers._

_Slipping out of her sheets, she seized Merlin's cloak off of the chair. _

* * *

Merlin pushed the door open to his room slowly.

After leaving Gwen and Arthur, Merlin had stopped at the Great Hall to properly greet his mentor, Gaius. The old physician had asked food to be brought to Merlin when he realized that the young magician had not eaten anything. Like old times, they sat across from each other, Merlin chewing on leftover bread and cheese. They had exchanged stories about their months apart and Merlin felt gladder than he could say about having the court physician around again. He had managed without Gaius, but now that he was reunited with him, he truly appreciated just how much Gaius had done for him for every word from Gaius' mouth had been in Merlin's best interests.

Merlin had left Gaius in the Great Hall because tonight something was calling him back to his old room. He had been sleeping for too long in Morgause's magician quarters and he felt nostalgic as he glanced around the small room that used to be his sanctuary. His room was changed from what he remembered because Morgause had freely used Gaius' chambers to house her night guard. It was in a state of disarray: items had been abandoned by their owners, and extra cots had been placed here and there. It only took a few flashes of Merlin's eyes and everything was back to how it had been…right down to the threadbare rug on the floor.

It was well past the witching hour now and Merlin stepped on a box near the windowsill so that he could see the outside world through the small window in his room. The full moon was shining brightly and the fresh smell of spring was all around him. He remembered how he had been fascinated by the view of the city when he had first arrived, and even now, the sight of the city sprawled before him did not cease to take his breath away. He looked down on the courtyard, which was full of tents housing the villagers and townsfolk. It was a beautiful city…the castle on stood on a scenic hill overlooking a serene forest and houses seemed to flow with the nature of the area. Though tomorrow, beyond the forest, war would be raging on the plains of Camlann…tonight, in Merlin's eyes, Camelot was magnificent as it had always been. He wanted to ensure that it would always remain that way. It was a kingdom of opportunity, a kingdom of bravery…a kingdom of dreams.

It was for this idealthat they were all fighting.

He had read in Arthur's words and tone of voice just how scared the king was that he would let all his people down. And Merlin found it odd that his level of anxiety did not match Arthur's…or anyone else's in the kingdom. Strangely, Merlin felt removed from the surroundings.

Of course he cared about the results of the war and about his friends' safety…but somehow, while others were scared for the loss of a future they had envisioned, Merlin had no foreseeable future plans besides getting Arthur to the throne. He had done everything he could to bring Arthur as close as he could…and now, going into the battle, he felt he truly had nothing left to lose.

When had he transitioned from a young man full of hopes and dreams, coming to Camelot with vague ideas of greatness into an old man, a philosopher on the brink of life and death and whose only purpose to advise and protect his King?

These past months, Merlin felt many times as though he was on the threshold of discovering a truth…something that would shed light on destiny's final chapter for him. But every time he tried to turn the page, it eluded him. For some reason, today, more than any other day, he felt as though the moments were slipping from his fingers too fast…he was running out of time to answer the question.

Merlin knew he was coming closer to something and though he didn't know what it was, the unknown haunted his every heartbeat.

…But there was a nagging voice in his head that kept telling him that he _did_ know what it was…that he had always known. And tomorrow, when the page turned, he would finally read what he had known all along...

About what happened _after_ he fulfilled his destiny.

Merlin was interrupted from his thoughts by a soft but determined knock. The door creaked open slightly.

"May I come in?" a voice asked.

Merlin frowned and jumped off the box he was standing on. Striding to the door, he threw it open and upon seeing the figure on his doorstep, he curiously stepped out of the way to allow the woman to enter.

"Morgana," he greeted. With a hint of concern he asked, "What brings you here?"

She crossed the threshold into his room and with her back facing his, she answered, "I…came to return your cloak." Morgana pulled off the heavy black cloak from her shoulders and turning to face him, she held it out.

Merlin did not say anything as he took the cloak from her, but his brow furrowed slightly. He was still confused as to what she was doing here _now_…

Making his way to his wardrobe, he threw the cloak into it and shut the door with a snap. Facing Morgana again, he was glad to see that she looked much more composed than when he had brought her back to Camelot. She had not uttered a single word during their journey back to the city and to him - she had seemed like a completely lost woman at that time. Now, she appeared much more like the Morgana of old, with her determined face and resolute aura, but Merlin could still sense an undertone of turmoil beneath her surface.

He pulled up a rickety chair and offered it to her. She sat down slowly as Merlin took a seat across from her on his small bed. Her rich white nightgown flowed about her and somehow it made her look paler than usual. Merlin, who had yet to change from his day clothes, still was clad in the black outfit that Morgause had assigned all her magicians.

_Ivory faced ebony._ As ever, the two were opposites. But tonight, there was no animosity between them.

"I couldn't sleep," she said abruptly. Her mind was teeming with questions, ideas, emotions…she did not know how one person could feel so much at the same time.

Merlin looked at her with an unreadable expression. "Few people in this kingdom will be getting sleep tonight, Morgana."

In an oddly level-headed manner, most unlike herself, she voiced a thought that had been plaguing her waking hours. "And that is _my_ doing. It is because of me that the people suffer. I have brought about the ruin of Camelot and that is what keeps me awake." She had been afraid of saying that aloud to anyone else. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap and she looked down at them; her emotions threatened to overpower her…but she would not yield. She needed Merlin to _know_…to understand because if _he _could not...no one could.

Merlin did not rush to correct her strong declaration. Instead, he paused to ponder her words for a moment while he articulated his reply. "Morgana…every land, every person, every king has to face a test. This is ours." His expression softened as he thought of the immense burden she placed upon herself. "You must not think the blame lies squarely on your shoulders alone. Perhaps you sparked the change leading to these circumstances faster than it needed to have happened…but whether you had a hand in this or not, the test would have come to pass."

Slowly, she willed herself to look at him. As she regarded his face, she wondered how she had failed to notice the maturity in his eyes…the resolve in his jaw…Most of all, Morgana truly appreciated for the first time, the calmness in his aura. She envied that about him. Her mind and body were trapped in a storm: she had felt more emotions this day than she thought possible for one human being to feel and her sentiments threatened to devour her where she sat. She had been right to come and find Merlin, however, not just because she yearned for some respite from her day's ordeals. For an unknown reason, despite everything they had been through together, it was _Merlin's_ presence that was providing her with solace. His words drew her in and filled her with a much needed serenity.

She studied the man before her…the man who had arrived at Camelot as just a boy with an infectious smile, eager to please and full of awe. At that time, she had held the power in their relationship. Now, though traces of that boy remained in his appearance, facing her as an equal was a man…one who was beyond his years in knowledge. Was it even fair to call him her equal? Morgana felt at the moment as though he was much beyond and above anything she could possibly hope to be.

"You have…changed, Merlin," she remarked. "Look at you now…talking like a wise old man."

Merlin gave a small smile at her comment. "I have learned to adjust to the changing times require of me. Time changes all."

Morgana's green eyes pierced into Merlin's blue ones. "_I_ too have been changed," she asserted. "I do not know if I can ever return to who I used to…" She found that she could not finish her sentence and uncomfortably, she fiddled with the hemming on her nightdress. After what had happened at the tent today with Mordred…how could she return to a normal life pretending that she hadn't glimpsed into the darkest corners of hell? She felt ashamed, sad, guilty, violated...most of all, she felt utterly damaged. Broken.

The warlock seemed to understand her thoughts. Almost as if he had read her mind, he leaned forward said earnestly, "Morgana…it may be impossible to return to exactly how you were, but in time, you _will _rebuild a new life and you will like feel yourself again. Remember that time is the greatest healer of all things."

Still not looking at him, she said in so soft a voice that Merlin had to strain to hear her, "And I have hope of healing one day because of you…" Captivated by his web of wise words, she finally told him what she had come to say. Meeting his gaze once more, she said, "Merlin, I had to see you tonight…to _thank you_." He opened his mouth to speak, but she swiftly cut him off. "No…please hear what I have to say. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't come. I don't know what he would have done…" She shuddered at this. "We have not often seen eye to eye and yet…when I was abandoned, alone and helpless…it was _you _that was there. And you have brought me back here to my friends…and right now, though I cannot imagine _how_ it will happen…I can appreciate that you have at least given me a chance at a life again after everything that has happened to me…not just Mordred…but Morgause, Uther…_everything_."

Merlin was touched by her words. He felt ashamed to tell her that he had doubted her loyalties when Morgause had been alive. In the past year, Merlin had grown wise beyond recognition in some aspects…yet, when it came to Morgana, he always abandoned wisdom and remained wary and on guard, in spite of her constantly asserting her allegiance to Arthur. Merlin had also attained a level of detachment not just from many trivial issues, but also the fate of his kingdom and friends, though he had not stopped caring for them…yet, when it came to Morgana, he was anything but detached. He was still too invested in her actions, her interactions, her passions. He had told himself it was because he never fully trusted her, but was that really the truth? As Merlin looked into her large, wide eyes and her eerie pale skin, he realized that he had been wrong all along. It wasn't that he didn't trust her…it was because it _hurt _too much to see her betray him after he had believed she was on his side and so, by investing himself in her, he tried to stay one step ahead of her…by understanding her every move, he could try to prepare himself for her let-downs…

He shook his head at himself. He had been acting like a foolish boy when it came to Morgana. He had known now for some time that she could be trusted implicitly.

Sighing, Merlin ran his fingers through his hair absent-mindedly. "Morgana…" He knew that anyone in his situation today would have rescued Morgana. But there was more to it than that…more that he wanted her to know. He wanted to tell her how his blood had boiled when he saw what Mordred was doing…he wanted to tell how he had wanted to rip Mordred apart limb for limb and make him die a slow, painful death. He wanted to tell her how wrong he had been not to trust her, and how he would never make that mistake again…

"You don't have to say anything, Merlin," Morgana said before Merlin could speak again. "I just came here to thank you for saving me…not saving my life, but saving _me_."

Merlin swallowed. He did not know what to say; he had never seen anyone look so vulnerable in front of him and yet, she was so…

She misunderstood his expression. "Do not look at me with pity in your eyes," Morgana said, for the first time with a hint of anger in her voice.

"No," replied Merlin instantly, shaken out of his speechless state by her irritation. "It is not pity I feel for you at all. It is quite the opposite. I am…proud of you – of who you have become." The warlock remembered their early years in Camelot…how defiant she had been…how young they had all been. Though they had all faced unspeakable trials since then, she had always been true to herself. She needed to be reminded of that. "Never once have you sat idly while others suffered. You _always_ stood up for yourself and what you believe in…"

"I _had _to do that because I had a cause in which I believed…a cause which defined me," Morgana interrupted Merlin in a tone laced with deep sadness. She looked suddenly very lost and searched for words while Merlin waited patiently. "There is something you do not know yet. The wound goes deeper. He…he took my magic with the crystal, Merlin," Morgana said in a shaky voice. Even now, she could feel the _pain_ as the crystal had drawn out her magic force. A part of her soul had been ripped from her and with every breath since that moment she had felt the jarring loss over and over. The relief of being rescued from Mordred had dulled the hollowness, but now that she was speaking about it again, and not to Gwen, who could not possibly understand no matter how much she tried, but to _Merlin, _whose magic, ever since she had discovered it, seemed to flow from the very core of his being…her body throbbed with a need she would never again be able to satisfy.

"I cannot…imagine what it is like to lose a part of yourself," Merlin said quietly. He sat in shock for a minute…unable to understand how a creature of the Old Religion could inflict such pain upon another of his kind. But Mordred had always been unnatural, Merlin reminded himself.

There was nothing Merlin could say or do to make Morgana's loss feel better…he knew this, but he offered his sincere words to her and hoped that they gave her some strength. "I have known you from before you knew about your magic, Morgana…and you were determined and spirited then just as you are now." He spoke in such a heartfelt manner that Morgana felt herself drawn to his words…to him. "I know you, Morgana. You _will _find your way." He paused…it hurt him to speak these words knowing that there was nothing more that he could do for her. He cursed himself for letting the crystal of Neathid slip from his grasp…perhaps he could have prevented this. "And if you can't find your path…I have no doubt you will _make_ one for yourself," he added with conviction.

He was perched on the very end of his bed. Reaching his hand out tentatively, unsure of what her reaction would be, he grasped hers tightly.

Morgana nearly jumped in surprise, and Merlin drew back, startled. But only a moment later, Morgana stretched out her arm hesitantly to slip her hand into his warm one again.

After experiencing Mordred's rough touch, she didn't think she would ever again be able to let a man touch her so intimately. Even though Merlin was just holding her hand, she could feel his heart reaching out to hers through his gesture. She relaxed when he smiled at her kindly, but then suddenly realized something very prominent was missing. Once she had discovered Merlin had magic, Morgana had been able to almost sense it dancing under his skin whenever they were close…but now, she felt nothing and more than anything she had felt thus far…this was a real reminder that her magic was well and truly gone. She pulled her hand away and averted her eyes, trying to regain her self-control.

"Look at me, Morgana…" Merlin said gently. He waited for her to raise her teary gaze to meet his eyes before he spoke. "Magic does not define you. It is what you choose to do with magic that matters. Mordred has done an unspeakable thing by taking away your magic and has shown who _he_ is by his actions…but he can never take from you your free will. And _that _is what makes you who you are."

Blinking quickly to prevent tears from flowing, she said in a trembling voice, "What I have been thinking is…if…if there was something I could do to Mordred that would be as bad as what he has done to me…even now in my time of despair…I am unsure if I would be able to do it if I had the choice."

"You are wise enough to know that revenge will not return your magic, nor will it reverse his actions." Merlin folded his arms as he thought for a minute about Mordred's atrocities. Now that he was leagues away from Mordred, and the immediacy of what had happened was gone, he found he was much more rational about matters concerning his half-brother. "When I saw what he was doing to you…I confess that I wanted to end his life. You remember how I said I could never pity you…that is because I can see a future ahead for you, good things to come. But Mordred…I fear he has nowhere to go from here. It is _him_ I pity. He needs to die…and not as a punishment for his crimes, but so that his tortured soul can be freed."

Morgana was silent for a long time. Pondering Merlin's words, she rose to her feet and thought about the transformation Mordred had undergone from the young Druid boy to the monster, whose jaws she had barely escaped from. She felt, for the first time since returning, a twinge of sadness for Mordred. At least she, as maimed as she was, had things she cared about enough to live for: the fate of the kingdom, her friends…but Mordred had nothing. He had no one. Perhaps that was why he had placed Morgana on such a pedestal…she was the one person he hoped would fill every role in his life: a caregiver, a friend…and even a lover. But now he had to have realized that Morgana wanted nothing more to do with him. Mordred had to know he was completely alone.

Morgana broke the lengthy silence with a delicate question. "Would you kill your own brother then, Merlin?" Morgana asked softly.

Merlin sighed heavily. "So he told you about that?" It had not seemed to alter Morgana's feelings for him, and of that he was glad.

Morgana faced Merlin and she nodded. She had not known what to make of that piece of information. That Merlin and Mordred were brothers…she thought they were _nothing _like each other. But was that entirely true? For a minute she looked at Merlin…really _looked_. The dark hair…blue eyes…pale skin…sharp features…the brothers were more alike than she had originally thought. Somehow, though, while Merlin's features fused together pleasantly to form his face, the very same features gave Mordred a cold and malicious look. Now that she thought about it, Morgana suspected that the similarities ran deeper than just physical resemblances. Was there a darker side of Merlin that he kept hidden? Or was it that somewhere in Mordred there was an internal shred of goodness left? Somehow she doubted the latter.

However alike the two brothers were, the fact remained that while Mordred now evoked feelings of repulsion within Morgana, she felt an inexplicable pull towards Merlin.

Getting to his feet, Merlin answered Morgana's question, carefully choosing his words. "I would lie if I said I wouldn't feel the loss of my last family member. But there are some bonds that run deeper than blood. He has caused pain to all the people I _love_…" He looked at her as he said this and something was clear to Morgana suddenly.

It was something that had been lying dormant within her all this while and now, it had been thrust into the forefront. His words…his presence…she had been drawn to it this night, and though she had arrived at his room seeking solace, there was also an underlying, undeniable attraction she felt to him that overpowered her completely at this moment. She did not find it difficult at all to admit it to herself because what she felt was not romantic in the slightest. It was simply a need…a pull…he had a way of satisfying her emotional necessities, filling her emptiness, in a way that no one else could. She had not intended for this at all…she had not foreseen it. Without consciously meaning to, she now took a few steps towards him.

Merlin too mirrored her actions without realizing it, and took a step towards her. "Morgana…Morgana…" he murmured, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. He knew some of her pain had been caused by his actions, and he wanted her to understand that things had changed…that now he would give anything to have her find herself again. "I promise you that you will have a rich and long life ahead of you…" Merlin found himself looking at her with different eyes. He took in her long locks of loose hair, falling out of her braid, that framed her pale face…he saw a new tinge of pink on her cheeks…he watched her chest rise and fall with each breath. He saw _life _in her every movement, in the blink of her eyes, the trembling of her lips, the fumbling of her hands…and subconsciously, he was tugged towards it.

He took another step closer towards her. She had changed…they had both changed he knew. But Merlin would always remember her as _Lady Morgana_…the woman who fought her guardian defiantly at each step, the woman who argued with her foster brother over the smallest of things, the woman who loved and cared for her handmaiden as if she were her sister. _Those _were the memories of Morgana Merlin would take with him wherever he went. She had challenged him, fooled him, trusted him…and he had _felt _every emotion known to man because of her.

Wishing she could see just how much she meant to him, he said intently, "However wretched you may feel now…it will pass."

Gently he reached for her face and held her face in his hands. He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "I _swear_ to you, my lady," he said looking deep into her eyes.

She did not know what force made her do it, but without hesitation, without thinking, Morgana did the only thing that seemed right to her in that second. She placed her hand behind his neck and into his hair, and pulling his head down, she raised herself to meet his lips. He opened his mouth to her almost immediately and into the kiss, Morgana poured out the whirlwind of every emotion that she felt, every sentiment that threatened to submerge her…and he drew her passion from her lips with a deep yearning.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily and Morgana felt blissfully peaceful.

Merlin's prominent cheekbones were flushed and he looked at her apologetically. "You should go," he blurted abruptly. "You have been through a lot today." He knew she had taken the first step and not him, but rather than stopping her, he had fallen into her ocean, drinking everything in – taking when he should have been giving.

She stared at him, trying to understand herself, and to make him understand. She knew there was no way she could have mistaken the longing in his kiss. Why did he pull away from her now, reject her when she needed him most? It was not love or romance she sought…she did not want him to make any pledge or promise to her. Did he not see that? Why did he not understand?

Merlin noted her confused expression. He wished desperately that she would appreciate what he felt, without him saying it aloud, and perhaps hurting her. It wasn't that he didn't want this…oh gods, of course he had always thought her very beautiful. And she made him feel alive…more alive than he had felt in a long time. But, it was just…it would be selfish, unjust. He could offer her nothing more than this night…it just wasn't _fair_ to her.

"Morgana…it's not that I don't want…" He shook his head sadly. "I do not know what you are looking for from me, but I have nothing to give." Merlin so desperately wished it could be a different answer he gave her. If only he had the cares of a young man and not of an old warlock burdened with the futures of a kingdom, an old man with no foreseeable purpose past the next day…

Taking a step back from him, she scrutinized his crestfallen face. She could tell he held an immense sadness and she wondered what it was. "What is holding you back, Merlin? What are you so afraid of?"

"Nothing," said Merlin almost immediately.

Slightly irritated by his response, Morgana was about to retort when Merlin spoke again.

"Nothing," he repeated. "I am afraid of feeling nothing, Morgana. I am not _nearly_ as frightened as I should be about the battle tomorrow. I feel an odd sense of placidity…I want to fulfill my duty to help Arthur become King…but beyond that? I see only darkness. My whole life has led up to this moment and now that I am nearly there…I realize there is nothing past that for me." Merlin's voice broke as he struggled to get his words out. He met her gaze directly almost waiting for him to interrupt him, but she waited patiently and so he continued. "I feel as though in my mind lies a certain stillness…like a lake on a quiet winter day. Some days there are small disturbances in the water, but mostly the surface remains intact. At present, of course I am invested in _this _world and I care deeply for my friends, but I do not want to reach the point where I cannot feel for _anything _anymore and I fear it is slowly happening." For the first time, he was confiding in someone…confiding in _her_ and it felt hugely liberating. After all, she understood better than anyone how it felt to be a foreigner in one's own world…it was how she had felt with her magic in Uther's kingdom, and even later under Morgause's rule.

Uncertainly, Morgana placed her hand on Merlin's arm. "And I, Merlin, am afraid of feeling _too_ much. I experience more emotion than any one person should feel." Ever since she was a child, Morgana's problem had been that she was too temperamental and hot-headed. Whenever she had a traumatic experience, that problem would only be exacerbated and today, she had suffered _too_ much and conflicting emotions within her threatened to tear her apart. "The emotions rage in me like an uncontrollable fire and they will consume me. You say you have nothing to give me…I only want a moment of shelter from this storm and you could give me that. I swear that is all I seek from you." Morgana finished her request, her throat tight, as her heart hammered in her chest. She had never had to ask before, what she wanted from a man, and though she felt suddenly shy and inadequate, she simultaneously felt empowered that she was able to articulate her needs aloud.

An uncomfortable silence hung over the pair as she awaited his response. Morgana released her grip on Merlin's arm and he determinedly avoided her eyes. She felt the heat on her cheeks as he continued to stand as still as a statue looking at his feet. His angular face was highlighted by the dim lighting in the room and she was completely unaware of what was going through his mind.

_Fire and water_, _fire and water_, Merlin thought to himself repeatedly. If fire flamed out of control…water could control it, calm it…and if the water grew too cold, fiery blazes could send the chilly water into a boil. Could it be that they both could fulfill each other's basic needs? Whatever she had done to him, there was one thing Merlin could always rely on: she always made him _feel_. His heart thudded knowingly as though to confirm his thoughts; he could feel the warm blood pounding in his veins. Could it be…?

After a few more moments of silence, Morgana embarrassedly muttered, "I must get back." Giving Merlin one final look, she turned on her heel and swept from the room. Before she had reached the last step on the stair leading from Merlin's room to the court physician's quarters, she felt a hand clasp her upper arm. Slowly, the hand pulled her back into the room as Merlin closed the door with his free hand.

The soft click of the door brought Morgana to her senses and she saw Merlin standing above her. She had never fully realized just how tall he was. She looked up at him, heat rising in her cheeks, as he leaned towards her, one hand on the small of her back. The other hand travelled up spine to the ribbon loosely holding her hair together. His eyes did not leave hers as he slowly undid the ribbon with one hand and dropped it on the floor. Merlin had always been fascinated by the waves of her hair, cascading down her back and framing her face as the night frames the moon. He let out a sigh of satisfaction as he finally threaded his hand through the thick, slightly damp curls, shaking out the braid so her hair was free to his touch. Morgana closed her eyes and bit her lip, surrendering to his affectionate caress.

Their second kiss was soft, slow and deliberate. Merlin savoured every second, trying to remember every movement. Finally, they broke apart and he caressed her face in his hands. He traced her cheek lightly. His every breath was deep, purposeful while hers were shallow and frantic.

Merlin tucked a lock of Morgana's hair behind her ear and leaning towards Morgana's ear, he whispered, "Ignite my senses while I calm yours."

He gazed at Morgana's face intensely, trying to commit to memory every last detail. Softly, almost as if speaking to himself, he added, "Let me feel everything again…just once more." And this time…just this on this one occasion, he didn't hold back from her…

…_They tumbled onto the bed in a heap. Merlin slowly pulled one arm of the nightgown down while she yanked down the other. His eyes roamed her bare arms and he carefully ran his fingers down her smooth skin. As his skin touched hers, the red markings where Mordred had gripped her skin earlier disappeared…_

…_Hands were everywhere. Her hands first found his hair, holding onto his unruly locks…then her nails dug into his back, trying to convey to him that she did not want to be worshipped…trying to show her urgency, that they all might die tomorrow…while his hands tried to convey the same ending of the world, but with gentle caresses that were no less demanding or less full of desire for their softness…She was slowly but surely forced to relinquish control and finally her hands gripped the sheets, letting go… _

…_With every soft kiss he placed, he seemed to relish in the realness of it all…the sweet fragrance of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, the vitality of her movements…_

…_With her every frenzied touch, she found pleasure in the escape this provided her…she did not think of anything else but how good it felt to not think…and simply to be…_

…_He tried to slow down her actions, to prolong the moment and revel in the spectacle of life while she tried to rush through it all, expending her energy, enjoying the relief it provided her from life…_

…_They did not make love…nor did they make war. They made peace with each other…and with themselves…_

_Fervency_. Merlin's eyes shut as he focussed on how every cell in his body was leaping with fiery desire. He was never going to forget this moment of feeling completely and wholly _alive_…

_Tranquility_. Morgana closed her eyes and tried to hold onto this one moment of utter satisfaction and peace…but already it was slipping…

Some time later, though she was not sure how long, Morgana's eyes snapped open. The small cot was just that…too small. Previously, that had gone unnoticed, but now it was painfully obvious to Morgana now as she lay enfolded in Merlin's arms. Her curves and his angles had seemed to fit perfectly in that moment, but now she felt very aware of every place their skin touched and joints met. She felt cramped and slightly awkward about what had transpired, but Merlin did not seem to notice her unease. He still had his eyes closed, a picture of contentment, and a small smile on his face. He looked much more like the young man she knew before their trials had begun…she could not help but smile fondly up at him.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and they had a twinkle in them…something she had not seen for some time. He stroked her hair gently and gazed upon her. He could feel his heart beat in time with hers and he wanted to savour it. Merlin did not want to let go of her…not just yet.

Morgana willed herself to lay still. It was not that she regretted anything that had happened between them, but she had experienced one moment of absolute calm and that was enough for her. She wanted to move forwards. She was never one for lying still anyway…

Finally, Merlin sensed her restlessness and he slowly released his hold on the last real attachment in this world. He raised himself on his thin pillow and she too followed suit and sat up beside him.

He played with the Druid symbol which hung around his neck and then said, "You asked me…a very long time ago what this symbol was."

She nodded vaguely recalling the moment.

"It is the Druid symbol for life," he said. Her eyes fell to his chest and she raised her hand to touch the symbol. Before she knew it he had pulled the string that he wore around his neck and the symbol dangled from it in front of her eyes. "Morgana…I want you to have this," he said solemnly. "As a reminder that you have your entire life ahead of you…" He knew he kept repeating that message to her, but somehow it was imperative for her to really appreciate that.

Wordlessly, she bent her head as he placed the symbol around her neck. He lifted her chin and smiled at her.

"Thank you," she said simply. It was a thank you that encompassed everything. She leaned forward to kiss his forehead, and then his cheek, and the angle of his jaw.

The dawn's first rays were breaking over the horizon when Morgana silently asked for permission to leave and he gave it to her with a strong squeeze of her hand. She slipped from the small cot and pulled on her nightgown. Merlin closed his eyes, but she knew that he was only feigning sleep; like her, he had gotten no sleep during the night.

Quietly, she walked through the hallways, which were still deserted. She pushed the door and entered her chambers, making her way to her large bed. Perhaps she could get a little rest before the monumental day tomorrow.

As she passed the large mirror in her chambers she paused. Her reflection looked at her defiantly. This time, she did not shy away from her face. She knew she was not completely healed…but she assuredly felt more whole.


	24. Chapter 23

**So many paths that wind and wind...**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: We almost tricked you didn't we? Into thinking we would turn into the authors classified as the "ones that never update"! I don't think there's any greater punishment than that for a writer - so glad we avoided that by giving you all a new chapter to enjoy, better late than never!_

_I think there is a small part of our subconscious - or maybe we are entirely conscious of it - that does not want us to ever finish this story. This may be why this chapter, where the battle was actually supposed to be half-over, hasn't even started yet! Maybe it is a sign of us truly relishing every moment writing together. You know you're addicted to writing when even characters you don't care about have an extended storyline, and characters you hated you grow to love. While there have been some minor changes in terms of the events we include in each chapter, we have mostly stuck to our plan, for which I, for one side of the coin, am greatly impressed!_

_We hope you enjoy the speech that was greatly inspired by our "Quote of the chapter". We even contemplated at some point putting in the youtube clip of Aragorn's speech and directing you all there, asking you to replace Rohan with Camelot, and men of the West with men of the Island of Albion! Even if you don't end up liking our speech, go watch that scene over again for the same sentiments. We promise you will not miss a thing._

_Wish us luck as we continue to write - we're almost at the end: As said by I-don't-know-who, "It's weird...you know the end of something great is coming, but you want to hold on, just for one more second...just so it can hurt a little more." And as painful as the end of this story will be for us, our wounds will be soothed by a review or two! So please do :)_

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**Chapter 23**

"Sons of Gondor, of Rohan. My brothers. I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me! A day may come, when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of Fellowship, but it is not this day! An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of men comes crashing down! But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you, stand, men of the West!"

~ Lord of the Rings

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Lancelot made his way through the crowd, leading a horse by his reigns towards a young boy, whose mismatched armour marked him to be a new, inexperienced recruit. Even amongst the sea of faces, Lancelot could see the fear plainly etched on the youngster's face.

"Here," said Lancelot over the clamour in the courtyard, offering the reigns of the horse to the young soldier.

The boy jumped, startled at being addressed by one of Camelot's knights. He had heard stories of the bravery and skill of these men on the battlefield and he had always hoped to prove his worth just like these knights had. Somehow though…now that it was coming to the battle at last, the boy was much less certain.

"Take this horse" Lancelot said loudly. The knight's heart sank at the boy's fate. He was so young and unmarred…it wasn't fair to any of them. Lancelot hoped that all those who were going to battle were doing so willingly, but deep inside he knew that it was a foolish thought. In times like these, every man, no matter how young or old was called to fight for their land and lord. Many did so honourably for those they loved while others joined the cause to avoid shame. But, Lancelot knew that there were some that were fighting today simply because a sword had been thrust into their hands - they had had no choice in the matter.

The boy protested, waving his hands emphatically. "But sir…I cannot! There are so many others that need horses. I can easily manage on foot."

At that moment, Lancelot knew for certain that this boy had jumped up at the opportunity to join the men going to war. Even with Lancelot offering him a helping hand, the boy held on to his ideals. The skilled knight wondered whether the youngster would come to regret his decisions by the end. How many more were like him? Fighting for a king they had never met…so many that prepared to face the worst against a horror they could barely imagine?

Lancelot glanced around the courtyard, at the many solemn faces. They were tightening their belts, giving their shields a last polish, practicing a few moves with their swords. The courtyard was packed – and not one idle hand remained. The knights, easily distinguishable in their red cloaks were distributing weapons to the commoners; those that already had received their weapons stood back, clasping each other's hands for luck and bidding goodbye to their families, some of whom were still making their way to the dungeons. The one noticeably less active and relatively quiet region of the courtyard was where all the magicians stood apart from the crowd, whispering to each other and looking suspiciously at the goings-on around them.

One thing was for certain: they were mostly all men of experience, looking determined and ready to face whatever was to come. Although not all of them had fought in many battles, their life experience ensured that they held no naïve expectations for their outcome in the war today.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts and bringing back his attention to the matter at hand, Lancelot turned his gaze once again to the young man, who was staring up at him with awe, his helmet much too big for his head. In contrast to the men surrounding them, this youth was barely more than a child…he was frightened of the prospect of war, but had barely contemplated the inevitable…death. Had he even kissed his mother goodbye or had he brushed her off, embarrassed by her affections?

It was not right that those who had barely begun to experience the world should have to fight for it! However, the fact of the matter was that there simply weren't enough men…

The decorated knight forced his face into a smile and clapped his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I saw you ride yesterday. You were fast and we'll need you today to transport the injured and relay any messages." He quickly pulled the boy's hand out and stuffed the reigns into his outstretched palm.

He gave the youngster a quick squeeze on his shoulder and turned and walked away, navigating through the hundreds that had gathered in the courtyard. He knew that by giving the young man the horse, Lancelot had greatly increased _his_ chances of surviving the war. But…even as he looked around, he saw _many_ young faces…all of whom deserved an equal chance – many of whom he knew would not survive. He sighed. Lancelot knew that he could not protect everyone, but at least he had made a small investment towards Camelot's future.

He had almost reached the corner where the other knights were standing, reaching their hands into the weapons box only to find it almost empty, when he heard his name being called over the din.

"LANCELOT!"

Lancelot turned to find Elaine rushing through the crowd. She pushed her way through and stopped in front of him, her face flushed and breathless before his eyes.

"You forgot your cloak," she said, once she had caught her breath. Deftly, she placed it over his shoulders and fastened the clasp.

Lancelot's breath caught in his throat. He had been dreading saying goodbye to her…the finality of saying farewell to Elaine was too much. There was nothing he could say or do that could convey what was in his heart. The time they had spent together in recent months had awakened in Lancelot feelings that he had never previously felt. He had loved another before with all his heart and had summoned his inner strength to step aside when he had realized she would be better off and happier with another man. He had experienced the pain of seeing her love someone else…

But _this _love…the love he felt for Elaine was different. If there was ever another man vying for Elaine's affections, Lancelot knew that he would fight for her with every ounce of his being. Without Elaine, Lancelot could not imagine his life…her vivacious personality and her kind-hearted nature brightened each day and erased each trouble in Lancelot's heart. In the past few months, the knights had relentlessly teased Lancelot about Elaine but he had not cared one bit for she made him happier than he had ever been.

Lancelot opened his mouth, wanting to say something…but he couldn't find the words. For the first time, he was truly scared of not returning after the battle, because this time he had something to lose…

Elaine avoided his gaze as she smoothed his cloak. He took her hand to stop her nervous fussing and for that brief second she met his eyes. Before he could respond, tell her what she meant to him and how he felt about her, she grabbed his face and kissed him.

In that moment, Lancelot was transported to a state of utter bliss. He did not know how long the kiss lasted…he clung onto her for as long as he could, memorizing the scent of her…the feel of her in his arms. This memory would have to give him enough strength for what lay ahead. It was all he had…

Suddenly, Elaine broke the kiss and stepped away. It was as though she could not keep her composure for one second longer…she took one final look at her beloved and without a word, she spun around and sprinted back towards the dungeons to join the other women and children.

As Lancelot watched her retreating back, he felt a deep loss that he could not explain.

* * *

Merlin stepped into the Great Hall, scanning the room for Gaius' white hair. He saw his mentor having a deep conversation with a small group of volunteers standing in a circle around him who had agreed to aid Gaius in the infirmary.

As he waited for Gaius to finish speaking, he looked around the huge chamber; Merlin saw many empty cots, trays prepared with herbs, medicines, and bandages. He tried not to think about the fact that the cots would not be empty by the end of the day. It was hard to remember how this grand space once looked with shining walls and glittering windows. The King's throne, which used to stand on a platform at the end of the hall, was now moved to the side room that led into the Great Hall. The platform was now laden with buckets of water and healing supplies.

This was the room that once welcomed guests of the kingdom into Camelot and now, it had lost much of its splendour. Merlin felt a twinge of sadness at seeing the castle in such a state. Perhaps when the King's throne returned to its rightful place with the true King seated on it, the old grandeur and magnificence of Camelot would return once more.

Merlin adjusted his cloak and pulled down on the wrists of his jacket, which was always too short for him. He had purposely chosen to wear his old clothes underneath the cloak – maybe it was to remind him where he had begun, or for pure comfort's sake. Merlin had transformed the colour of his cloak from the sombre black of Morgause's army to the brilliant scarlet that stood for Arthur.

From across the hall, Gaius' saw his most beloved pupil at the end of the hall. His tense face broke into a small smile as he looked upon the boy who meant more to him than he had ever acknowledged to himself. He quickly dismissed the eager group around him, sending them off to do their tasks with a few words of encouragement and caution.

They approached each other from opposite ends and though he had not thought of it before, suddenly Merlin could sense the importance of _this _goodbye.

When they met at the centre of the room, without hesitation, Merlin put his arms around Gaius' feeble limbs. Merlin knew that Gaius was much more tired and worn than he would admit. His mentor was not as young as he used to be and the recent trials had taken a toll on Gaius. It was unfortunate that even in this old age, Gaius had not been spared the agony of war.

The old man held onto his charge tightly. "My boy…you have made me so proud," Gaius whispered into Merlin's shoulder. Gaius knew deep down that Merlin was no longer a boy…he was a man, but in Gaius' mind, Merlin would always remain the young, carefree magician. The court physician chose not to see the man that Merlin had grown into – the solemn, pensive warlock who was wise beyond his years. Gaius was afraid that he would never really understand the mature Merlin…it was easier to pretend that nothing had changed. There was no denying, though, that Merlin was not only Gaius' greatest pupil but far more, for he had exceeded his master in all domains…and he had made Gaius' heart swell with pride at every turn.

"Whatever happens…I am so happy you were sent to my house. I don't know what I would have done without you," Gaius said slowly. He had never been the emotional sort – and he had seen more ups and downs than most. Today of all days, as he held Merlin close to him, he found his eyes filling with tears.

Merlin heard the choked up sorrow behind his mentor's words, and pulled back to meet Gaius' eyes, feeling sadder than he thought he would be at this moment. He looked down at the man that had taught him all the important lessons in life – not the ones he could have learnt from books but the ones that _really _mattered. "No, Gaius, I don't know what _I _would have done without _you_," Merlin replied.

Gaius blinked quickly, forcing the tears to retreat. He would make sure, even now, to not let emotion rule his heart , to make sure he passed on the appropriate advice on this momentous day. "If I may be so bold, Merlin, to tell you one final thing. I know you have come so far – you do not need it." Gaius looked at Merlin with love and smiled slightly. "But let an old man have his moment."

Merlin squeezed Gaius's shoulder, returning his smile. Gaius continued, "Son, you are indeed the greatest magician I have ever known…but even great magicians have their limits. And the secret of true greatness is to know what your limits are and not to exceed them. You are not alone, Merlin. Don't be afraid of asking for help."

Merlin was surprised at Gaius' words for Gaius had voiced something that Merlin had always struggled with, the idea that he was carrying the world on his shoulders – and that too, alone and unaided.

"Don't leave Arthur's side and do not let him leave yours," Gaius finished, voicing advice that the Great Dragon that had spoken years ago from deep beneath this very castle.

Merlin could almost hear the Great Dragon's voice echoing from chasms.

_You and Arthur are but two sides of the same coin._

* * *

Guinevere fastened Arthur's gauntlet silently. They had not spoken a word since they had both risen before daybreak and gone about their duties. Both their heads were spinning with many thoughts. While Gwen was diligently trying to calm her thoughts down by focussing on the minute details of Arthur's armour, Arthur's restless mind was racing impatiently wanting to throw on his armour himself as he usually did and leave before his heart became too heavy. He could hear the army outside in the courtyard and he knew that they were ready to march to battle. At the same, he understood why Gwen was lingering. She wanted to hold onto this moment and their togetherness for as long as possible and Arthur could not deprive her of that.

So, he suppressed his impatience and stood silently without reproach.

Finally, Gwen could delay no longer. Arthur's armour was impeccably straight and pristine. She took a step back and biting her lip, she said in a small voice, "You look like a King." Her eyes were dry, a definite accomplishment, she thought, but she could not suppress the hollowness or tension in her voice.

Arthur smiled thinly. "You know…when Kings go to battle, their Queens give them a token for good luck." He wanted to wink at her, to keep the mood light, but somehow he had no control of his facial muscles. Instead he folded and unfolded his hands nervously.

Gwen responded with a slightly choked laugh, reminded of the first token she had given him. She deftly tore a piece off cloth from her sleeve and tied it around Arthur's arm.

Once she ensured the knot was tight, her fingers lingered on his arm for a few moments before she withdrew them and gazed straight into his eyes. "And there you have it. My wishes for you."

She couldn't look up at him after that, and laid her head down on his arm, staring down at the floor so hard she was sure that it would break open and swallow them both. She almost wished it would and then mentally scolded herself for thinking such a thing.

Arthur looked down at his silent, yet clearly full of turmoil wife. He coiled his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. His other hand slowly lifted her chin so that he could see her bright eyes one more time. He kissed her forehead gently and then moved his hand to place it lightly on her stomach. Swaying gently on the spot, he said a small prayer to the gods for his wife and unborn child. No matter what happened to him, he could not bear any harm coming to them.

Before his fear could overwhelm him, he abruptly let go of her and grabbing Excalibur from the table, he left the room.

Gwen looking sadly after his retreating back for a few moments, and then shook herself to rise again into action.

* * *

Arthur strode through the castle, his eyes on the ground, focused on gathering his thoughts so that he could give the speech that he was sure the crowd would expect from him. The speech that would motivate and inspire them to fight for not him, but for their own survival. He didn't know where to begin – or where to end it, for that matter – but one thing he was sure of. That he wouldn't be giving the speech alone.

He was so engrossed in his dilemma that he forgot to look where he was going and he bumped straight into another figure just near the castle entrance. The figure had been rushing from the opposite direction, also distracted and clad in armour.

Arthur opened his mouth to apologize, but then realized it was his foster sister as she righted herself. Morgana was dressed for battle and unlike the previous night, her usual fierce and determined look had returned to her face, although there was an added element of vulnerability.

After the state he had seen in her the day before, Arthur was surprised to see her standing upright, let alone dressed in this manner. Despite everything that had transpired between them, Arthur felt an emotion stir within him that felt something like protectiveness.

Ignoring the few people who were still left inside the castle, running by performing last-minute duties, Arthur grabbed her arm and pulled her aside. "What are you doing?" Arthur asked. His tone was guarded and hard, not wanting to show his anxiousness to her. "You should be heading to the dungeons with the rest of the women and children! Gwen will look after you there."

The old Morgana would have scoffed, pushed him aside and continued on her way. This Morgana, however, respectfully stood before him, but held her ground. She chose her words carefully and said in an even voice, "I cannot go to the dungeons – I don't wish to be a burden to Gwen, and…I think I could be of much more use on the battlefield. I request that you let me fight."

Arthur frowned at her declaration and shook his head. "I'm sorry Morgana. I can't let you fight. There are no people that I can spare to ensure your safety." He knew he was treating Morgana as a stranger, as if he didn't know that she could easily perform level with his knights when under pressure. But somehow with time, their closeness had also passed, and more importantly, what had happened in the time apart had driven him to feel like he didn't know her at all, and to feel like he should treat her as he would any other woman.

"Arthur, you have seen me fight," Morgana did not even raise her eyebrows at his comment and instead spoke reasonably. "I promise to hold my ground. I know I cannot prove my loyalty to you with one battle and that is not my intention." She paused, searching his eyes for some remnant of her foster-brother of old. "What has happened between us will take many years to mend and I swear I will be there and do whatever it takes, But at this moment, I don't _want_ to fight…I _need_ to fight to start my life over. _Please_," Morgana urged, her speech speeding up and her voice becoming more desperate.

Arthur didn't say anything for a few moments, and looked over her head out through the window beyond which he knew the people must be waiting. The sun was rising steadily above them and they had to make way to the plains of Camlann very soon. However, he needed to deal with this issue…how could he allow Morgana to fight? He would knowingly place her in harm's way if he agreed to her request. He couldn't do that to her. They had shared a deep bond throughout their childhood and Arthur had to honour that despite her recent actions.

Arthur thought of his deceased father – it was because of _her_ that _his_ father had died an unexpected and unpleasant death. His father…_her_ actions...what would she have done if he had done the same to her father? His father or her father, Arthur realized that there was no difference. Yes, it was true that Gorlois was Morgana's true father, but after Gorlois' untimely death, it was _Uther_ who had raised Morgana. It was Uther, who had watched her grow up, who had protected her, cared for her, chastised her…and it was Uther who had loved her as a daughter. To Morgana, it was Uther who had filled the role of her father. She had_ every_ right as Arthur did to call Uther her father. Even though Uther was brutally harsh when it came to certain things, Arthur knew that in his father's eyes, Morgana was every bit his daughter as Arthur was his son. Sadly, in the daughter's eyes, Uther's crimes had been large enough that she had felt justified in taking the life of her own father. Arthur felt a bizarre sadness for his foster sister and his father.

Fate hadn't been kind to any of them…

His mother had given her life to give birth to him. His father had fought at every turn to protect him and Morgana and in the end, the very measures he took to protect them ended up oppressing Morgana and drove her away. The one thing Arthur could take away from his parent's lives was this: a parent's love is unconditional. Arthur had no doubt that his father would have knowingly drunk a poison for Morgana…and he slowly realized that Uther would never have condemned Morgana for her actions…no matter what she did.

Perhaps when it came to this, Arthur was not much different than his father. He might be harbouring feelings of fury, betrayal and rage when it came to Morgana…but he would rather she be alive and well. That was why last night when he saw Morgana in _that _state because of that…monster…he lost all capability to think reasonably. Mordred had disregarded Morgana's dignity in the most repulsive of ways and by doing so, he violated a member of the Pendragon family. Even though, Arthur's feelings towards Morgana were still mixed, he would make Mordred pay dearly.

The morning had not resolved Arthur's emotional turmoil when it came to Morgana, but at this moment he was torn. By allowing her to march into battle, he would be going against his very instinct to ensure that no harm came to her – an instinct that had engrained in him for years. But at the same time, a part of him reminded him that Morgana was a proud woman. She needed to right the wrongs that had been done to her…she did not require Arthur or someone else to do it…she was the kind of person that needed to take matters into her own hands. And after what Mordred had done to her, Arthur could understand why she needed to feel self-reliant again…like she could walk again with her head held high. The Morgana before him bore her scars for the world to see and her wounds seemed to be dragging her down. Arthur knew that denying her this request would almost certainly deny her a chance at a normal life again.

Making up his mind, he held out his hand towards her in a gesture of goodwill. "Morgana…" he began uncertainly. "I have _always_ been proud to fight alongside you."

Morgana sighed audibly and squeezed his hand gratefully.

Arthur could not delay any longer. He had to address the nation. He nodded at her before letting go. Taking a deep breath, he walked forward into the foyer and opened the door to the courtyard.

Morgana stood still in the empty hallway, not noticing the shadow in the distance, trying to clear her head and keeping her goal on only one thing – not revenge, but redemption.

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Merlin emerge from the opposite corridor. Her heart squeezed in her chest uncomfortably. She did not know what she had expected when she saw Merlin again. As he strode towards her, thoughts from their time together drifted into her mind. She pushed them aside – that was a brief escape into another life and it could never be again. Morgana had made her peace with that as she had left him the night before and now, with each step he took towards her, she was only reassured of the fact that the man from last night had been different. He had almost been from a dream…

Even though they had only been apart for a few hours, it was evident to Morgana that they were already drifting away from the moment that they had shared. She was slightly saddened because it had been comforting for her to have had someone close to her…it was comforting to have felt loved even if it was just for a fleeting instant. She had felt liberated because _finally_ someone had understood her…accepted her without judgement, asked for nothing that she did not have in her to give.

As Merlin drew closer to her, he took in her chainmail and tried to give her an encouraging smile. Somehow, he had known since she had left him last night that she would be marching to war with the rest of them.

Though Merlin's eyes were free of judgment or questions, feeling slightly conscious, Morgana averted her eyes and moved her hands to her belt to tighten it. She hoped that Merlin would not attempt to talk about anything from the previous day's events.

But Merlin had no such thing on his mind…at long last, Merlin could say that he felt a sense of tranquility about matters when it came to Morgana. She was one of the few that had glimpsed into his soul when it was utterly unguarded and vulnerable and she had not shied away. Merlin was grateful for that brief solace she had provided for him and he would never ask for anything more. For so long, she had frustrated and angered him, but now, he finally felt like he could put all that behind him.

He came and stood beside her at the foot of the stairs in the foyer and both looked up through the stained-glass windows to the courtyard.

For a few moments, they stood in silence. Morgana's skin prickled and made her feel on edge. She did not know whether it was Merlin's presence or the impending battle that made her so jumpy. When she could not stand it any longer, Morgana finally took a step towards the door and placed her hand on it.

"Morgana."

His voice made her stop in her tracks. Her hand froze as she slowly turned to face him. This time her gaze met his head on, and she did not shy away. His blue eyes pierced hers and she could discern an intense emotion welling up inside them. She felt suddenly empowered and unsure simultaneously. After all, she was the daughter of a valiant warrior, she had been raised as the ward of a commanding King and she was sister to the greatest ruler Camelot would ever see…_this_ was her moment of reckoning and she would rise to meet her challenge!

Merlin didn't know what he could say with words that she would understand, but he tried to communicate the rest of his thoughts through his eyes. He hoped she gained some strength from knowing that he unquestionably believed in her abilities. Merlin knew why Morgana had to do this and he had no doubt that she would succeed in achieving a sense of closure with everything that had happened to her in the past year.

"I'm proud of you," Merlin said finally. They were the simplest and truest words he could summon at the moment and he hoped it would suffice.

Morgana gave him a small, but genuine smile and turned, pushing the door open.

* * *

Arthur stood at the top of the stairs leading to the courtyard, wondering if he was imagining the slightly nervous and anticipatory energy emanating from the statue of the man on the horse in front of him. Arthur waited silently for a while and one by one, each face in the crowd noticed his presence and fell silent. Still he waited, as both Morgana first and Merlin second descended down the stairs to join the mass of people.

The sun had now completely risen above them, and since he was facing westward, to the crowd it seemed as though the sun was rising behind, and its warm light was bathing Arthur alone. The superstitious folk in the crowd took it as a good omen and began to nudge each other with newfound optimism.

Finally, he cleared his throat. Arthur had pondered over and over what he could say to his people on this momentous occasion. Eventually after contemplating many ideas in his head, he had settled on voicing his most sincere thoughts. "My fellow citizens of Camelot," he began, trying to speak as loudly as he could so his voice would carry over to the farthest corner of the courtyard. "My dear kinsmen and friends. I am standing before you today, not because I am the son of Uther Pendragon, not because I drew Excalibur from the stone yesterday, not because I was once heir to the throne. I stand before you as a citizen in my own right, a man that has had the honour of gaining your trust and…most importantly, your love." His words were both spontaneous and well-thought out, they resounded in every person's head, as genuine, heartfelt love from their leader.

Arthur made sure to look in all directions, even at the people gathered underneath the awnings of the opposite side of the castle, when there was no more room in the main square. "I know how much you all have sacrificed to be here with us in this moment. You have left behind your lands, your livelihoods and your family…everything that is precious to you. The path before us may seem daunting and it is true – we do not know whether we will ever be able to return to what we once had."

Here, Arthur paused. His stomach clenched unpleasantly at the thought of not returning to his home, to his wife…to his child. He imagined his unborn child growing up without a father. He steadied himself with a deep breath…reminding himself that there were many in the crowd that were just as afraid of leaving their homes...and just as many who were afraid of never returning to their own "Gwens".

The veteran soldiers appreciated Arthur's honesty. The young King saw experienced faces in the crowd nodding at his words and he found his voice again as he continued, "But we would not be fighting today if there was no hope of reaching a place that is _even_ better."

A few people clapped at this, but fell silent as soon as Arthur began to speak again. Every person in the crowd strained to catch each word that fell from the King's lips.

"We go to battle today in the hope to protect all of that which you cherish, and build anew for the future. For some of you, this is your first battle and for some of us…it may be our last." Arthur did not pause, though there was some murmuring amongst the people. "Today, I want you to put all of that aside because the only thing that can save you and save us all is _your_ will to survive…your will to live, your desire to see a new Camelot."

Arthur paused again and this time, a much louder cheer rang through the courtyard. He paused, waiting for the noise to subside, but also giving himself a chance to phrase his next words carefully. He had told himself that this was as good a time as any to bring this matter up and now that it was the moment, he hesitated…he knew he was asking a lot of his people, asking them to change their entire mindset's in an instant. But Arthur knew it was the right thing to do. Besides, if at this early stage in his kingship, he flinched at making tough decisions…perhaps it was better his people chose a more decisive and confident leader.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur said in a loud and sure voice, "The new Camelot…where we will _embrace_ magic, and those who practice it with good intent in their heart."

At this, Arthur turned to the corner where the magicians had congregated. It was painfully obvious to see that they had not been openly accepted as part of the army, but this segregation was exactly what, to Arthur, had been wrong about the old Camelot, and so he addressed it directly. He could hear a slight murmur of voices from the crowd, but it had not been as loud or half as malicious as he had initially feared.

"I know why some of you may have misgivings about those with magic, and I understand why the magicians may be wary because of the way they were treated in the past. Let us show our growth as citizens of our new world. My friends, magic is not an end in of itself. It is akin to our swords or the shields that you hold today. By themselves, they mean nothing, as does magic – it is neither harmful nor beneficial. It only matters who wields the sword or who holds the magic in their hands." Arthur took a breath in and his eyes focused in on the one face in the crowd who not only looked impressed with his speech so far, but also somehow managed to look relaxed in a sea of anxious faces.

The rest of the gathering neither cheered at Arthur's words…not did they spurn them. This was the best that Arthur could have hoped for since he was well aware that such changes did not happen overnight. At least, his people were willing to listen and adapt their beliefs and for now, this was enough.

Glancing back at the one face he took strength from, he spoke again. "And the one who has taught me that magic can be the most selfless gift, the one who has stood by my side through these troubles times, he is the man who I consider my brother…Merlin. I would like to take this opportunity, with all of you as my witnesses, to hereby appoint Merlin as the High Sorcerer of Camelot."

The knights burst into cheers at these words by their King while Merlin stood beside them, frozen.

"It is my wish that he help guide this kingdom into a new era of acceptance and prosperity. I know that the integration of magic into our society will take time, but I have no doubt that Merlin will be instrumental in the process. I do not wish to alienate the non-magical citizens who have dwelt in Camelot for years, but I bid you to ask yourself this: how did it feel to be an outcast in your own homes during Morgause's rule?" Arthur glanced around the entire courtyard, noting the guilty faces in the crowd. He knew that this question made people realize their own hypocrisies and prejudices that they had harboured for years.

"I do not believe that the new Camelot should be a place of segregation, but rather a land where our strength is that we are united despite our differences. As to the magicians here with us today - " Arthur directed his gaze to the corner in the courtyard. "I cannot thank you all enough to stay and fight for this land. Even though you have been discriminated against for decades, the fact you remain with us says more about you than I could ever say. Perhaps, the new appointment of Court Sorcerer will serve as a beacon of hope for other magicians…to let them know that Camelot is heading in a different direction."

The King could not clearly make out the expressions of the magicians, but he could see Merlin's proud face at the very front.

Arthur had said everything he had wanted to. He had given his people as much confidence and hope as he could give. Now, he needed words of encouragement for himself. It was generally custom in Camelot for the King – and the King alone – to address the army before marching to battle. But today, Arthur doubted anyone would care about following the normal protocol.

He let a reminiscing smile appear on his face. "Whenever in the past, I have needed counsel, whether I knew it or not at the time, I have turned to Merlin. And today, I turn to him one more time…not just to inspire me, but to inspire all of you."

He held out his hand to the crowd, inviting Merlin to join him. Merlin shook his head quickly and refused to budge, but Leon grabbed his arm and pushed him up the stairs. As Merlin's legs slowly carried him up the stairs, he was surprised to hear cheering from the crowd. He knew he had not been well-known at all before this past year, other than as the bumbling manservant who looked after the Prince. But what he did not know was how the knights had not just in the past night but over the past many months spread word of his bravery and what he had done for each one of them. The people had been gripped by the stories, children had idolized him, and somehow the prejudice against magic had not applied when it came to Merlin and his noble deeds.

He drew level with Arthur and the expression on his face said that he was both gratified and uncertain of what he was expected to do. It was easy for Merlin to advise Arthur, for that was his destiny, but to address the whole of the nation? In his mind, he was just a servant from Ealdor…

However, knowing that this chance to make a difference may not ever come again, Merlin looked out on the crowd and took a deep breath.

"I am honoured to address you all today. Arthur – I mean, _King_ Arthur is too generous to bestow such a title and think me worthy of speaking to all of you on this day that will surely change history." He looked beside him and gestured to his friend. He wanted to give the people confidence in their new leader. "I cannot imagine a better King…or a better man to lead Camelot. I was just a humble boy from Ealdor, not different from any one of you, unencumbered by anything but my propensity to get into trouble." Merlin chuckled softly at this memory – how they had all changed since then. "It has been four years since I arrived in Camelot and the Great Dragon told me my destiny. He said that my magic was given to me to protect Arthur and ensure that he ascended to the throne. For Arthur would be the one to unite this island…and all its peoples into the nation of Albion."

Merlin realized that though he had never sought any recognition for what he had done for Arthur – but that what he had done did not truly exist without the acknowledgment of the people. "What began as just _my _destiny has now become a part of all of yours. And though I cannot read all of our futures…I can say this much: each one of you can tip the balance between defeat and victory."

Merlin spoke slowly, deliberately, choosing each word with great care. "Each one of you can have an impact on all of our destinies. The truth is - destiny or not, I would proudly die fighting for Camelot, my home, and all of you." He glanced at Arthur and back into the crowd. "And I know you would not be here if you were not willing to do the same."

"Win – we win together! Lose – we lose together!" Merlin cried as loud as he could. The crowd roared in appreciation.

Over the din, Merlin shouted, "Now and forever, for the love of Camelot!"

The knights took up the chant, thrusting their swords high into the air, "For the love of Camelot!"

Arthur and Merlin looked at each other and Arthur raised Excalibur. "For the love of Camelot," they shouted in unison.

The others too had taken up the chant.

"For the love of Camelot!"


	25. Chapter 24

**So many paths that wind and wind...**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: We like to think that we are honest and trustworthy people. But we have lied to all of you...We don't know if you remember, but eons and eons ago (aka roughly two years ago), we said that we were planning to write 30 chapters for this story. And that was how it had been planned and that was what truly what we had intended to do. So, with that in mind, we chugged along...updating once in a while and keeping you poor folk waiting for long periods of time in between chapters. Then, we realized that we had been rather foolish when it came to planning the last stage of the story. You see, we had planned about six chapters where not much happened (literally, the chapter would have been a paragraph long). We know how frustrating that is as a reader so we decided to combine chapters to give you longer chapters where more STUFF happens. So in summary, what does this mean? It means we have arrived at the chapter that comes before the chapter that comes before the end (no, that was not a typo). This is essentially the THIRD-LAST CHAPTER, which means there are TWO more chapters to go. In actuality, it's ONE more chapter and then an epilogue which wraps up everything neatly in a bow (not exactly, but you get the idea). If all goes according to plan, we will be done the story by JUNE of this year...which is quite bittersweet for us._

_So dear readers, we sincerely hope that you enjoy this chapter where lots of things happen (promise!). Thanks for sticking around and supporting this story for so long - WE ARE ALMOST AT THE END! Drop us a line if you feel so inclined, we do love your comments! And if since it's nearly epilogue time, the person who comes up with the most creative name for a future child wins an imaginary prize._

* * *

**Chapter 24**

"Only the dead have seen the end of war."

~ George Santayana

* * *

Camelot was about to fall.

Their hours of preparation, the difficulties they had all overcome; the hope that had been rising in Camelot…it had all come to this moment. It was supposed to have been the moment when they overcame tyranny and fought for a brighter future. Every man, woman and child in Camelot had known that they had only a small chance of victory against the formidable army before they had set out to war…but no matter how faint, there was still that small chance. Camelot had hoped that fate would have favoured them for fighting for a noble cause…but fate favoured no one. On these plains of Camlann, it was up to every soldier to carve their own destinies.

In dismay, Arthur looked around for just one glimmer of hope but everywhere he turned he saw defeat. _How had it come to this?_ Arthur thought as he raised Excalibur once more to meet the blade of yet another relentless magician. His arm moved of its own volition as he met his assailant head-on, but his mind was far away.

Arthur's heart sank as he remembered how his army, bright and optimistic only three hours earlier, had been immediately surrounded and attacked mercilessly by the larger magicians' army. The moment they had arrived in the plains of Camlann, they had been overwhelmed. He had no reasons for why they had fallen apart so quickly. There were no excuses. The journey to the plains was short, and they were all as well rested as could be expected. But once Camelot's army had stepped into the plains that overlooked the mountainous range, all semblance of order in the army had completely collapsed. Those hours of drills and formations that Arthur and the knights had conceived were all completely lost.

The sheer force and number of Mordred's army had overwhelmed the newly recruited men of Camelot. They regressed into their former selves – showing their true nature. These men were only farmers, carpenters and cobblers…not warriors. And the opposition had seen that in an instant. They had ruthlessly breached Camelot's defences…staying clear of the knights at first, and brutally and efficiently taking down the peasants. Numerous times, Arthur had seen three or even four magicians descend on a peasant that had bravely joined the ranks from an outlying village. The poor farmer, who had not picked up a sword until recently, could do nothing more than cover his face in defence.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Arthur knew that this was all a part of their strategy. To make his army feel like they would all be crushed one by one. Even those that _did _know how to fight were falling like flies, their morale quelled by seeing their fellow citizens fall by the droves.

There had been no time to regroup in the plains, no time to remind them of the strategies and plans the knights had spent hours explaining to their new recruits. And so, without hope or purpose, Arthur's army fought for their lives, surrounded by the magicians on every side. Their motto was now: "Kill or be killed". Fear and despair were paramount; the tension in the atmosphere was as thick as the smoke that covered the moors.

The dazzling sun that had bid them farewell as they had left the castle was not to be seen on the plains. Sometimes, briefly a few rays would somehow trickle through the dark cloud, only to be swallowed up once again leaving the battleground in misty, thick fog. And the reason for all of this? Arthur shielded his face from the fumes as he looked up with anger.

The dragon, unperturbed by the king's glares, swept overhead. Mordred, in his beast form, loomed above, scrutinizing the goings-on below. Arthur knew that there was no need for Mordred to lower himself to the ground when his men were handling Arthur's troops so thoroughly. Occasionally though, the dragon would swoop down to pick up knights and commoners alike in his claws and squeeze the life out of them, only to carelessly drop their corpses over their screaming comrades. As if the remaining men's confidence needed to be shattered any further!

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur suddenly caught sight of a malicious magician use his outstretched hand to fling Leon's mangled body over dozens of battling warriors. He drew a sharp intake of breath – his heart froze and his mind began to race. Another one had succumbed…but Leon wasn't just another man. He was an experienced knight and few could fight better than he. If the magicians were now targeting the knights…Arthur gulped, not wanting to believe what he had just witnessed. He could not see Leon's body – it had fallen to a place where many were still fighting and Arthur wanted to rush there to protect it and keep it safe from the trampling feet.

Blinded by grief, Arthur tried to fight his way through the bodies to reach Leon. Suddenly, he stopped short as he glimpsed Leon's assailant a few feet away. Without a second thought, he charged towards Leon's murderer. Furious and frustrated, he tackled the magician down with his bare hands, Excalibur falling to the ground. The magician was so shocked by the king's ferocity that he did not even have time to react. Anger pounding through his veins, Arthur punched the man repeatedly with all his might, but with each blow, Arthur grew more and more certain of the fact that his longest serving and most loyal knight would serve him no more. The man responsible for Leon's death began to stop struggling under Arthur and the king felt an uncharacteristic vindication at taking another man's life.

There was no honour on his battlefield.

It would not have been a fair fight even if Mordred's army had not used their magic – so large was their side. One by one…ten by ten….hundreds by hundreds of Camelot's men fell without taking down even one-hundredth of Mordred's army. Only a small group of Camelot's army remained now…mostly consisting of knights and those who had defied the odds to survive.

The knights were doing the best they could but even their fine swordsmanship was crumbling under the spell-work of talented and ruthless magicians. Arrows rained on them from the skies, but they could not identify the source. When they raised their sword to slice a man in two, he disappeared before their very eyes, only to appear behind them and clobber them on their head. Balls of fire exploded where knights had tried to congregate, forcing them to scatter. Some of the magicians did not possess very advanced skills in witchcraft, but even these ones were able to send out smoke and fog to confuse Camelot's army and that in itself was doing enough damage. Few and far between fought fairly – those that did must have had some humanity left in them to feel for their opponents.

It was now only a matter of time.

Camelot was about to fall.

* * *

Merlin narrowly avoided a collision with a flying spear; he ducked and saw that a magician was trying to direct it towards Sir Gareth. It was a narrow escape from death for Gareth, but he battled on with another man unaware. With a swipe of his hand, Merlin turned the spear back towards the magician and sprinted on, not waiting to see whether the spear pierced its owner.

Merlin ran, as he had been running for the last few hours, without rest, trying to even the odds. One Merlin to balance out thousands of magicians on the enemy's side? He tried not to think about the futility of his actions as he made his way through the plains, putting out fires with fountains that sprung from his hands, sending weapons back to their owners with a flash of his eyes. He tried to shield the commoners he came across with protective charms so no magic could penetrate his magical shield. Merlin was using every ounce of his energy and it was draining him…but in spite of his superhuman effort, none of his spells were lasting. He just did not have the energy to sustain each one for more than a few minutes.

As he looked around, the other magicians who were fighting on Arthur's side were trying to do the same, but there was no order to their defence. They, too, like Merlin were nearing exhaustion. Originally, their plan had been for each magician to stay with one squadron of the army and focus on protecting them against magical attacks, but like the non-magic folk of Camelot, these men too had forgotten their orders upon arriving to battle. There were numerous magicians on Mordred's side that were vastly more talented and skilled than the majority of those that fought for Arthur. Some of them even regretted their decision to fight, but none left, for as hopeless as it was now…it would be even worse if they abandoned the countless commoners.

As Merlin cast his protective spell work around Lancelot, he yelled at a nearby magician, passing on the same message that he had been telling each magician. "Ferdinand, protect Lancelot's battalion. DON'T leave your charges!"

Ferdinand looked at him, remembering his orders from long ago. He nodded curtly and sprinted back towards Lancelot, who was still standing, valiantly battling three magicians at once.

Merlin ran to another nearby magician, cloaked in red, who had stepped out of line to put up a shield for the nearby troops. This was a magician he had had particular trouble convincing to fight for Arthur – he had been impudent and stubborn, but now, Merlin was glad to see that this sorcerer seemed to be doing everything he could at the moment to protect the non-magic counterparts of his army. "Hamartom," Merlin shouted, "stick to your legion!"

Hamartom obediently returned to his group but did not hesitate to retort, shouting breathlessly at Merlin's retreating back. "I am doing my BEST, Merlin! YOU stick to your charge."

Merlin froze in his tracks and remembered that he had left Arthur unaided some time ago. As he sprinted back, his cloak swishing in the wind behind him, he caught glimpses of many of their own that had fallen amongst the innumerable faces of those he did know. So many lost and so little had been achieved. Merlin's heart mourned but he did not have time to grieve for any of them. Each of the fallen had meant the world to someone…they were someone's father, somebody's brother and someone's child.

Merlin was caught in his helplessness. The only way to prevent this massacre was to recover the crystal of Neathid…the crystal would be able to amplify his powers and give him strength to sustain his spells, giving him an energy that he would never be able to muster. But as Mordred flew overhead, he seemed almost invincible. The crystal shone brightly, embedded in the dragon's flesh…almost mocking Merlin for even daring to think that he could claim it for Camelot.

Mordred was not so foolish as to come within range of Merlin. Initially, Mordred had been reckless, flying close to the ground just to wreak havoc amongst the commoners. Now that he had seen how much Merlin could do, a few hours into the battle, he was content to fly high over the scene, watching the destruction below as he waited, biding his time for Merlin to wear down. Mordred instinctively used the crystal's powers to continuously replenish his troops' power stores so that no matter how many spells they cast, they did not lose their energy.

Merlin did not know how he could draw Mordred to the ground; he was nearing exhaustion and knew the deed had to be done soon, before he collapsed. He knew he would have to call on his Dragonlord's powers to defeat Mordred, but at the moment the voices of the Dragonlords within him could not be heard over the turmoil outside.

Finally, after much searching, Merlin glimpsed the King's fair head near the ground as Arthur pummelled a man with his bare hands, Excalibur nowhere to be seen. Merlin's heart stopped – he had spent hours placing charms on Excalibur to ensure that as long as Arthur had the sword in his hand, no evil magic could harm him.

Merlin scanned the ground nearby, and finally to his relief spotted the gleaming hilt of Excalibur, partially obscured by a fallen body. Unfortunately the same time he spotted it, he saw one of Mordred's men glimpse the sword. The magician started to run forward, but Merlin was too quick. With a flourish of his hand, the magician went flying backwards and Merlin reached the sword before anyone else could.

Just then, another man charged at Arthur. Merlin shouted the King's name and threw the sword to him. Arthur jumped up, caught it deftly and with one swipe, the charging enemy fell to the ground. To Arthur's surprise, Excalibur seemed to instinctively follow his commands – not with the speed of his hands, but almost as fast as his thoughts. Though there were many more important things running through his mind, Arthur could not help but admire the craftsmanship and power of the sword. He felt as though the sword alone was shouldering the burden of his sinking spirit in the battle.

Arthur stood unsteadily amongst the chaos, looking both lost and desperate. The warlock did not like the look on his friend's face…as defeated as Merlin felt, he knew that he had to put on a brave front for the king, for his people would look to him for leadership. Merlin quickly cast an invisible protective bubble around himself and Arthur and ran towards his friend to speak to him.

As he made his way through the fallen and fighting soldiers, he spotted Morgana nearby out of the corner of his eye. She was bravely battling on and holding her ground defiantly. Suddenly he saw a man coming up behind her, and Merlin was about to shout a warning, but she abruptly, almost as though she could hear his thoughts, twirled around and hit the attacker with the bottom of her shield. Even though her magic had been forcibly torn from her, it appeared that somehow she had retained an intuitive ability to predict what the enemy's next move would be. Feeling immensely relieved that she was safe, Merlin continued his path to the king.

Merlin drew level with Arthur and in what seemed like eons, he skidded to a stop. "Arthur, _do not _let that sword fall from your hands again!" Merlin said urgently, still trying to catch his breath. "What happened? Why did you let go of it?" He knew there was hardly any time for questions, but Arthur had looked almost possessed as he had pummelled the magician. He appeared to have lost control…and that was a dangerous prospect indeed.

Arthur was pale and drawn. "Leon…"

No other words were needed. Arthur closed his eyes tightly, trying to shut the pain out. Merlin shook his head in sorrow, but could not express his grief any further for he knew the shield he had cast would not hold for long, and if they did not come up with a plan now, then defeat would surely be their lot by sundown.

Merlin rested a hand on Arthur's shoulder, and squeezing it, he tried to spin the situation in such a way as to rouse them into action. "Then we must make sure that Leon didn't die in vain. Not just Leon…all the others." He refused to look around because he knew what he would see. _Piles of corpses, and wounded soldiers, fires and smoke_… He kept his eyes on Arthur.

Arthur understood Merlin's resolve, but he was out of ideas. He felt hopeless and personally responsible for their inevitable doom. What could he have done differently? The only thing Arthur could do now was to take down as many of Mordred's men with him before his certain death. He tried not to think about what would happen after…His kingship had been short indeed.

"I cannot foresee a way where we can continue without getting the crystal," Merlin continued, trying with all his might not to reflect the sadness he felt at the death and destruction around him.

Arthur looked at Merlin's worried face. He knew what Merlin was really saying: the end was swiftly approaching unless a miracle occurred. "We must lure the dragon to the ground then, as you had said yesterday, but the way things are…I don't see it happening," Arthur said. His voice was flat and emotionless. He was not able to process the magnitude of what was happening.

There was no miracle coming for them…only death.

* * *

Nearby, Morgana could vaguely hear Arthur's conversation with Merlin. She had tried to make her way to the two men almost out of habit, but she had been stopped by an attacker.

"We must lure the dragon to the ground then…" she heard Arthur's inexpressive voice carry through the plains.

As she elbowed the man charging at her, she knew in the back of her mind that there was one way that Mordred would come to ground. But would she be able to go through with it?

During a brief moment of respite, she glanced all around her. What choice did she truly have? She could not justify saving herself by sacrificing an entire kingdom – not just a kingdom or a land, but a dream. The realization struck her of just how much she had changed. Setting her jaw, without pausing to think, she flung her sword and shield away from her as far as she could.

Morgana now stood completely defenceless. Holding her head high she saw all of the men she had briefly knocked unconscious and wounded turn to look at her. Shocked, the magicians took a moment before they began to surround her. Uncharacteristically, she closed her eyes and purposely let out the most high-pitched scream she could muster.

All heads in the vicinity turned towards her, but none turned more swiftly than the head of the giant beast overhead.

Merlin and Arthur's heads snapped towards the source of a terrifying shriek. As a magician raised his blade over Morgana, Merlin's mind went numb with fear. Not Morgana! He would not let any harm come to her…not as long as he was alive.

Without hesitation, he sent a spell flying her way to protect her, the first he could think of, but it was blocked by a huge, swirling, black cloud. Shocked, Merlin & Arthur stood rooted to the ground, watching the shield spell Merlin cast dissipate as it hit the cloud.

The dragon had landed. The ground trembled and sent many a soldier nearby flying. The battle around them had all but ceased for most remaining on the battlefield stared, open-mouthed at the giant beast.

They watched in horror as the terrifying monster opened its mouth wide and spewed a ring of fire that enveloped the magicians that had surrounded the lone figure of Morgana.

Morgana cracked an eye open and, as she had expected, the men who had circled her had been replaced by piles of ashes. She was surrounded instead by a circle of fire, and beyond the circle stood Mordred, in his dragon form, his amber eyes narrowed, crouching on all four limbs, ready to attack anyone who dared come near her. Morgana's skin prickled as she doubted her quick actions…now that he was on the ground, Mordred loomed larger than ever before and she wondered if they could ever overpower him and claim the crystal. The flames around her were sweltering and she felt as if her armour would light on fire, but the fire did not come closer to her. Fate was cruel! How it mirrored their relationship – Mordred, the fiery blaze that danced around her, and kept all others out. Morgana's gut wrenched and she felt as though she was going to be sick at the thought that Mordred wanted no harm to come to her.

From between the flames and beneath the dragon's belly, Morgana could discern in the distance Arthur clapping Merlin on his back as if to say: 'This is it.'

Morgana could not watch what was coming next. She did not think she could bear to see the giant beast destroy the two men she cared most about in this world.

It happened very quickly. Merlin and Arthur rushed towards the dragon without hesitation, panicking that the dragon may take off before they had a chance to face it. Once they drew closer, they were relieved to see that Morgana was safe for the moment, even though she was certainly entrapped by the flames.

The king and the warlock looked at Mordred and then at each other. "As planned?" Merlin asked with a wry smile.

In a flash, Arthur nodded and raised his sword as Merlin closed his eyes and for the first time since the Great Dragon's death, he searched his mind for the voice for the Dragonlords. Because the clamour and din of the battlefield had silenced, he had no trouble finding his ancestors within him. Following their command, he began to chant, first softly and then in a louder and more haunting voice.

Hearing his half-brother's voice, the dragon turned to face Merlin, his claws digging into the muddy soil. Mordred had not the slightest inkling what Merlin was saying. So consumed in hate and evil, Mordred had completely blocked his both his outer and inner ears to the language of the Dragonlords. Not knowing what was in store for him, Mordred began to laugh, smoke swirling from his nostrils, amused at the fact that Merlin was trying to challenge him by speaking at him in a strange language. Now that he was face to face with Merlin, he felt he had something to prove. He knew Morgana could see him from behind her fiery cage and he wanted to show her just how superior he was to her supposed saviour.

Merlin, however, continued to chant, ignoring Mordred's taunting laughter. At the same time, the sun began to break through the dark clouds with more force, and along with the sunlight returned a new faith in all of Camelot's army. It was not over. It would _not_ be over until the last breath of air left their lungs. Their King and their Lord Merlin were still standing and battling against the most formidable of forces. And taking strength from their leaders, Arthur's army on the battlefield began to rouse each other into action by clapping their nearby companions on the back. Those closest to the dragon gathered behind Merlin to give him moral support while those farther away fought with a renewed energy.

The men who were left fighting abandoned all pretence of using swords as they had been taught. The woodcutters began to use their weapons as axes, the farmers as their ploughs, the cobblers as their hammers. Surprisingly, or perhaps it was not that unsurprising after all, they fought better than they had all along. The magicians had been startled by their leader coming to ground and in their momentary confusion, the commoners began to regain their confidence.

Furious at the growing sense of enthusiasm pervading the atmosphere, Mordred tried to open his mouth to send a torrent of flame towards his half-brother, wanting to remind them all of his invincibility. But somehow…oddly… though his mouth was open, nothing was coming out but hot gasps of air. The dragon within him was not responding to his wish! Mordred tried again and again to summon the flames but his mouth…or rather, the mouth of the dragon did not comply.

Instead, Mordred could feel another voice feebly arise within him for the first time since he had claimed the dragon's body for his own. An emotion that he had not felt in a long time began to awaken in him: he was confused. He did not know what was happening.

"Let me go…" the voice spoke softly in his head. "You have caused me enough pain."

Mordred's cold heart shuddered…to hear that dragon's voice, after so long…a deep, dark, questioning fear stirred within him, something he had never felt before. For a split-second, Mordred felt afraid for his soul, afraid of what he had done to the beast, afraid of what remained… and afraid of what price he would have to pay for his actions. That somehow _this_ was the reason why Morgana was being so resistant to his affections and that her defiance was the punishment for his sins. But the next moment his arrogance and selfishness returned.

Mordred shook his giant head and screamed. "NEVER!"

The scream resounded in everyone's minds as a high-pitched, chilling screech. Merlin finally opened his eyes, the light in them grew darker, his chanting intensified and the onlookers gasped as slowly the dragon began to wobble. The land started to move as though small earthquakes were happening beneath the surface. People were thrown helter-skelter in every direction, but Merlin held his ground, maintaining his balance on the shifting piece of earth.

Inside the dragon, Mordred's mind began to panic. He was no longer in control of the beast's body and its limbs were moving of its own accord. He could hear the dragon's voice shrieking in pain within him and Mordred wanted it to stop.

Merlin did not break his spell, but signalled to Arthur with his hand. Arthur saw his chance. Without hesitation, he ran towards the dragon and rolled under his belly, narrowly avoiding its trampling feet.

Mordred's head was spinning…he could vaguely see his half-brother before him and a figure rushing at him but he had less and less control of his body. The dragon's voice, that he had possessed and silenced for so long, grew more and more agonizing.

Arthur was now directly under the beast. He jumped deftly as its huge foot swung towards his head and took a moment to steady himself. With all his might, the king swung Excalibur at the point where the crystal was etched into the dragon's flesh. With a powerful stroke and Excalibur's magic, the crystal was excised with a tortuous scream from the dragon. Before the crystal could fall to the ground, Merlin's outstretched hand guided the crystal towards him. The crystal, free of Mordred's grasp, levitated towards the better brother, the one other person who could wield its power.

Quickly, Arthur rolled out from under the dragon, deftly avoiding it's trampling feet. He glanced at Excalibur in his hands, which was as pristine as before…and raised his sword high into the air. The knights, who were watching the scene unfold, broke into cheers while in the opposition's mind, a flicker of doubt surfaced for the first time that day.

At the same time that Arthur raised Excalibur into the sky, Merlin caught the crystal easily. At once, he felt the surge of energy from the crystal revitalize his core. The crystal shone brilliantly as the sunlight brought out its many hues. Closing his eyes again, Merlin held the crystal over his head, speaking the same words over and over again, his voice growing louder, with the newfound power from the magical object. "Béon ceorl aaron… béon ceorl aaron." He chanted the words with as much strength as he could. Again and again. The wisdom of the Dragonlords surged from Merlin's being more than ever before as the crystal glimmered brightly over Merlin's head.

Arthur watched his friend with his mouth agape. Merlin had his eyes closed and was chanting not in his usual voice, but in a voice that was an amalgamation of a hundred other voices. With each word he spoke, the dragon before him weakened more and more.

The moment was close. The dragon that Mordred had possessed for so long was seconds from being free. Merlin knew this and the thought propelled him to push himself further as he drew on more of the crystal's power. He had originally not wanted to test his boundaries because he did not know how much of the crystal's energy he could wield, but now, he had no choice.

Merlin's inner sight could almost see the two souls before him that were completely intertwined, like two strings wrapped around each other. Slowly with each chant, the strings began to unwind. Using the crystal to enhance his power, he held the glowing rock in front of him, in the place where the dragon's face was in his line of sight. Excruciatingly slowly, he lowered his hand, with the crystal in it, and drew the crystal in a straight line down the middle. Inch by inch, he wrenched away the poison of Mordred's corrupted soul from the dragon.

Mordred could hear two voices screaming in torture, and he knew one of them was his own, the other the dragon he had suppressed. His body felt as though it was being ripped in two. Just when he thought the excruciating pain would never end, he felt every cell in his body being ripped in half. He felt himself being flung to the side on the ground. When he looked at his hands, he saw that they were his own pale hands, no longer the dragon's claws. Mordred looked to his right where he saw an immense dragon form, one that used to be under his control…the form that used to be _him_ and it was now a separate entity….a separate, wounded entity.

Mordred's confusion deepened. How…? He could not fathom how this had happened. He closed his eyes and tried to transform into the giant beast, focussing his mind on the thought of having wings, gigantic claws and deadly fangs. Looking down at his hands again, to his utmost surprise, he was still very much himself…in his human form. So perhaps he couldn't transform _into_ the dragon…but he could still make the animal do his bidding. With his mind, he tried to reach for the dragon's but to no avail. He had lost all connection with the creature that he had been so intimately attached to. The beast had lived _within_ him and was only supposed to be able to exist if he wished it. He _was_ the dragon…but not anymore.

Feeling slightly disoriented, Mordred tried to understand how Merlin had managed to separate them…not only separate their bodies, but also their souls.

Merlin opened his eyes to find himself staring straight into the dragon's eyes. Finally free from Mordred's grasp, the dragon did not have enough life force left within it to sustain itself. Its painful wails drew Merlin's pity as the last dragon met his eyes directly, calling for a favour….a kindness from its kin.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin looked pained but he did what he knew to be the right thing. Quietly he spoke, "Lást æt mamera, aaron." He repeated the Dragonlord tongue again in the common language. "Go to sleep, brother_."_

Even though, he would be dealing the final blow, the Dragonlord knew that this dragon had been dead for a long time. Merlin slowly raised his hand and said a quick spell.

In response to the spell, the dragon slowly slumped to the ground, its knees weakened, no longer able to hold up the weight of his immense form. At the last moment, the dragon used its last remnant of life to direct its falling body towards Mordred's masses, away from Arthur's army. Though the dragon, under Mordred's command had caused much pain, this last act was in the name of Camelot – and the freedom that dragons once represented.

As the dragon fell to the ground, Merlin sadly realized that there was no use for Dragonlords in this land anymore.

* * *

Slowly, Mordred's consciousness began to clear. He cursed himself for not thinking before rushing to Morgana's aid. He did not mourn the loss of the dragon – it had meant nothing to him. It was only a tool in his hands. He only mourned the loss of the power that the form gave him. But his twisted mind reassured him that he was formidable…even in this shape. He was back in his black armour and his pale reflection contrasted his armour jarringly.

At the moment, everyone seemed to have forgotten him. They all were celebrating their small victory. They seemed to think they could win again…on a larger scale.

Mordred's eyes narrowed in anger. He could feel his anger pounding stronger than ever before and he knew that when it overwhelmed his emotions, there was no telling how much destruction he could cause with his magic. His aura was wounded by the dragon's loss, but like any savage animal, he was most dangerous when he was wounded.

Looking around to regain his orientation, amidst the deafening cheers, his furrowed brows suddenly softened. As fate would have it, when he had been flung away from the dragon, he had landed just in front of the ring of fire that still encircled the object of his affections.

Through the flames, he could see Morgana's face but her expression threw him off. While she was undoubtedly sweaty because of the scalding fire around her, she was looking directly at him and a slight victorious smirk was playing on her face. At that moment, Mordred realized that he had been played. She had lured him to the ground with her scream and he had rushed to aid her. Despite how she had abandoned him the night before, she must have known that he could never let anyone harm her.

Mordred knew that Morgana was surely thinking that he had lost…that he was _weak_. That was one thing that Mordred could not suffer. He would show her where the true weakness lay on the battlefield – with those fools she had decided to side with. He sprung up to his feet like a cat, and without a flinch, he walked towards the cage that he had created for her…to keep her safe until he could reclaim her. It was that time now to take what was his.

He continued walking straight through the fire join her. The flames licked his armour, but it did not burn him.

Morgana flinched as his figure grew larger and larger until she could see his face sneering above her. Being in his very presence disturbed her more than any pain she had ever felt in her life. They stood silent for a while, heat and smoke making their heads lightheaded, beads of sweat mingled with dirt running down their faces. Morgana had determined that morning to face her fear, because she had known that was the only way forward for her. She could not believe that the gods had answered her by forcing to confront her fear in this fiery hell, from which escape seemed impossible.

Morgana shuddered under his smouldering gaze. The lust in his eyes from the night before had not entirely disappeared, and joining it was a wild, crazed look that told her he no longer cared about consequences – about victory or defeat. Before, at least his pride and ego had wanted a victory so he had seen to it that his troops had some semblance of a strategy. He had believed that victory against Arthur's men would have also meant winning Morgana over, even if it was by force. But now, he was fighting for nothing. He wanted complete destruction and dissolution of all…simply because he enjoyed it. He did not need to prove anything to Morgana…he realized that he no longer cared what she thought of him. He knew he could have her and so what if she did not want him? He would have her anyway. This newfound realization brought a triumphant gleam to Mordred's eyes.

She began to move away from him, but Mordred did not stay still. Instead, he began to walk as well, around her, as a predator circles his prey. She refused to submit to his mind-games and though weaponless, she crouched in a defensive position and they both started moving in a circle.

They were in their own world, cut off from all the rest of reality, the cheers and the sounds of battle cries outside quietened by the rising flames. Morgana's only goal was to hold her own until Merlin could get to her. All day, Morgana had fought unaided and she had managed to hold her ground extraordinarily well. But against Mordred…she could not face this alone. Once before, Merlin had saved her from Mordred's grasp and Morgana was certain he would do so again.

Mordred spoke first, breaking the silence. "Morgana…you stand before me, alone and defenceless – yet again." Mordred revelled in saying those words and watching her uncomfortable posture. He could so easily overpower her…but why not give her one last chance? He continued, "And yet again, I will prove to you that regardless of what you have done to me…" Here, without warning, his voice became a snarl, as he remembered the pain that the dragon-separation had caused him. And it was because of _her_!

Suddenly all pretences of niceties were gone. In his icy blue eyes, the flames danced as he shouted, "Join me Morgana, or else you will _all_ die!"

Morgana was startled by his yell and sudden change in disposition. He frightened her to her very core, but Morgana knew that the best way to battle fire was with more fire. She forced a smirk at his ultimatum, realizing just how delusional he was.

She, too, raised her voice to meet his intensity. "Mordred, don't speak to me of your wounds after what YOU have done to me! Look at you…you have lost your biggest weapon, and soon all the magicians will realize that you hold nothing for them. Do you really think you can still win this battle?"

They still moved like prowling lions, neither stopping their intricate dance.

The boy who had grown up too soon shook his head at Morgana's naivety much like an elderly man would. Mordred's voice, now raspy from the straining of his voice with all of the screams, sounded bitter. "I don't care about winning or losing. I only care about being with you. Morgana, you don't understand! I will kill them all…Arthur, Guinevere, the entire Camelot you call so great – full of nothing but hypocrites. I will destroy _Merlin_!" Within the same sentence Mordred had transformed from a resentful adult to a whiny child, one who had never received any affection – one who had been denied opportunity, and love because of his birth.

For the first time since the events of the night before, Morgana felt some pity well up in her heart. The reason he had tried so hard to maintain connections with her was because of his upbringing – or lack of it. Morgana knew that a part of his deranged behaviour was surely due to that…but there was a wisdom within her that told her that no matter what opportunities Mordred had been given, his change into a beast would have been inevitable. Still…she could not quell the pity that was beginning to rise within her.

There was no forgiveness…some wounds ran too deep. But there was mercy and some softness in her voice as she spoke. "Please Mordred, you didn't listen to me yesterday – and I don't know if you will today, but I must try. You have no hope of winning this war. You have destroyed so much, even yourself to try to gain something that used to be already yours. My love…_was_ always yours, Mordred." Morgana shook her head, her eyes filled with tears. Perhaps she had always loved him in a way that was different from what he wanted from her…but she had at least shared the sentiment with him. She finally stopped moving and Mordred also paused, a gleam of something akin to hope in his eyes. She held out her hand to stop him from moving close.

"After what you have done to so many who did not deserve such cruelty…after what you tried to do to me…now, I can _never _love you! Why don't you accept that? Leave this fighting – you are only a boy! Leave this kingdom behind, try to find yourself again, let Arthur rebuild this –"

Mordred interrupted her, infuriated by her pity. He said only one thing, his mouth a thin line, the scar on his face seeming to almost burn like the flames around them. "I will…if you come with me."

Morgana stood rooted, unsure of herself. She could end this by sacrificing herself. She could end this…for now. For a moment, she was tempted but she was grossly disturbed by what would lay ahead for her if she took his offer. Still…was it not a small price to pay for a kingdom? It was the darkest moment of Morgana's existence as she stood before Mordred, not saying a word, but silently resigning to her fate. All she could hope for now was to leave this place without causing any more destruction. Surely if Arthur or Merlin saw her being led away by Mordred…they would not let her go without a fight. She did not want any more death…certainly not on her account!

Taking her stony silence as acquiesce, Mordred raised his hands to dispel the fire. He grabbed her hand with force and led her back into the battle.

The battle had now started in full force again and had moved slightly away from their corner; Mordred's army, losing its morale at what they thought was the loss of their leader had now begun to falter under the relentless and energized attack of Camelot's army.

Morgana feet were moving out of their own volition. She was being half-dragged by Mordred while her mind tried to comprehend just what she had silently agreed to. Would she be able to keep him happy? Would she be able to quench his blood-thirsty and cruel nature? As the glanced at his disfigured face, she caught a glimpse of the demented and numb look in his eyes, which indicated that his fire within would never be quenched – not by her life, nor by the ones around her. She made up her mind. Sacrificing herself was noble – yes – but foolish if it served no purpose. Morgana had fought today, not just for Camelot, but for herself. Now that she was so close to regaining a chance at a new life again, she was not about to throw it away for no good reason. There was no changing Mordred! Even if she was able to control his deranged personality for a while…she would not be able to do so forever. She would never be able to contain his thirst to cause suffering and one day or another, his innate tendencies would resurface and that day, Morgana would have failed on a grand scale.

_No_, Morgana thought, _it ends today_.

Between all the noise and commotion, no one noticed the two dark-haired figures making their way through the field. And no one noticed when the smaller figure quietly picked up a dropped sword from the ground and suddenly held it to her kidnapper's throat.

Mordred let go of her hand and looked at her. He appeared almost bored by her latest antics.

"Mordred! Pick up a weapon – or use your magic…for I will not defeat you while you're defenceless, like you did to me. Fight me because if you want to take me with you…" Morgana's voice darkened and trembled. "You will have to take my dead body."

Mordred did not lift a finger. Instead he just looked at her. "I will not fight you, Morgana. You would not last for even a few moments before me." He smirked slightly. "And why would I hurt the one I love?"

Morgana could not believe her ears and shook the hair from her face, as though she had not heard correctly. "What do you mean you won't fight me? You did yesterday! And you hurt me so much I am standing here in front of you, your enemy, not your friend!" Her voice was breaking with emotion.

Mordred was growing weary of her attempts to change his perspective. Ultimately, no matter what she said or thought, she would be his.

Morgana spoke again, this time almost pleading him to end his madness. "Mordred, I implore you once again! There is nothing left for you here! Merlin and Arthur will defeat you. You would be ruling over nothing – over chaos – a _hell_! You will die alone!"

"Morgana, I would rather die in hell…than live in heaven without you!" Mordred shouted, his face twisted with emotion.

With that, Mordred simply turned and walked away, fuming. He knew now that there was no way to convince Morgana to let go of her fantasies. He would kill Arthur and Merlin in front of her eyes, and prove that there was nothing left for her. As long as she had her friends, she would have something else worth living for and would argue with him and protest his actions at every step. If she had no one else in the world, then what would she achieve even if she left him? She would have nowhere to go once her friends were gone.

Some of Mordred's magicians began to recognize the lonely figure stalking towards the centre of the battlefield. They rushed towards him, asking for their orders. He pushed them out of the way roughly and refused to talk. He scanned around looking for Arthur. He would save Merlin for later. Mordred loved playing mindgames…he knew that once he had killed Arthur, his half-brother would be distraught by the death of his dimwitted friend that even the crystal's power wouldn't be able to save him.

Finally, he spotted Arthur nearby, taking on a few magicians, his back towards Mordred.

Grabbing a spear from the ground, Mordred's upper lip curled. Without warning, he charged towards Arthur's back. He was so fast and had been so well-concealed up till that point that none of Arthur's knights were able to warn him.

The spear was thrust forward forecefully and two screams resounded. One of the assailant and one was that of the victim.

Mordred screamed in horror, his face paler than parchment, his fist in his mouth as he shook his head in disbelief. He looked at the figure he had just stabbed and back at his own shaking hands, which were still gripping the spear. He let go of the spear, which was still embedded in the victim, and looked at the face of his casualty. She had followed him, knowing that he would do something rash in his rage. She had been quicker and stealthier than he and in his blinded quest for supremacy, he had hurt the one person who ever meant anything to him. The one person he loved beyond any other…the one person who had ever shown him kindness. He took a step towards her, his body trembling, but her eyes widened in something akin to fear and disgust. For the first time, her rejection truly pierced his heart.

Morgana slowly slumped towards the ground, against Arthur's legs. The King had turned around at the screams.

It was all happening very slowly in Mordred's eyes. He stood, transfixed, his eyes wide and his face paler than ever before.

Arthur was twisting around to catch her in his arms and he collapsed to the ground, unable to support her weight. His eyes widened in panic and his hands at once went to the spot where the spear pierced her. Arthur's stricken face clearly said the unthinkable: that nothing could save Morgana now – blood was gushing from the wound and the spear had surely punctured many vital organs. Arthur was whispering something nonsensical softly to her as other knights gathered around, not even noticing Mordred. They had eyes only for their Lady.

Glancing down, Mordred noticed that Arthur had tears rolling down his face as he shouted for Merlin again and again. More knights gathered around the pair and blocked Morgana from Mordred's view.

"MERLIN," Arthur shouted again, his voice breaking.

But the battle was not yet over, and Merlin had gone to protect the others with the newly acquired crystal. After many futile attempts to call Merlin, Arthur bowed his head and began to cry into his foster sister's shoulder in helplessness.

Painful sounds were now emanating from Morgana's lips and Mordred's hands flew to his ears to cover them. He could not bear to hear this.

As Morgana's breaths grew more and more raspy, Mordred could not help himself anymore. He had to see her...one last time. He made his way, pushing knights out of the way, and stood above her gasping figure.

Arthur did not even lift his head up, but his body shook as he buried his face into Morgana's shoulder. They were both covered in her blood and Morgana looked paler and paler as the life drained from her veins. Her chest was barely moving, but her eyes were still slightly open.

Mordred could not bear to see her like this…knowing that he had done this…but he also couldn't turn away. As her eyes met his, he could not tell whether or not she even recognized him. A single tear rolled down his cheek and before he could stop himself, more tears were spilling from his eyes. He so desperately wanted her to see him…even if she despised him, he wanted her to know that he was there.

In the course of two days, both of Nimueh's children, had been destroyed at Mordred's hands.

Morgana's vision began to fade but a face stood out clearly amongst the surrounding blur. It was the face of a boy…how odd. She vaguely knew that she was on a battlefield, but she could not imagine what a boy was doing there. It was a young boy who was wearing some strange black armour that seemed like he was trying very hard to be a grown up. She recognized his pitch-black hair and slate blue eyes. The pain she was feeling moments ago began to diminish. She was wondering who this boy was and why she meant so much to him for he was crying uncontrollably. In her final moments, Morgana prayed that the young boy standing above her would find what he was looking for…he seemed so lost and alone.

Without warning, Morgana let out a long, rattling, final breath of air.

She was gone.

The knights around them uniformly knelt for the fallen lady.

Mordred, who had been standing over her, let out a scream of anguish. His purpose in life had been destroyed. In a single instant, the world was foreign to him. He did not belong here. He belonged with her for all of eternity and he would join her…but not just yet.

Arthur was still clutching Morgana's body with all his might.

Mordred felt a rage a hundred-fold more than he had ever felt when he regarded that sight. If this man had accepted his help all those months ago…it would not have come to this. It was _his _fault that she was dead. She had believed in him…she had believed in his stupid dream and for that, she had given her life. Mordred's fury grew and the more it grew, the better he felt, for it temporarily freed him of his guilt. Morgana had thought _Arthur _worthy to give up her life for. It was this, more than anything, that infuriated Mordred. Arthur was _nothing_ compared to Morgana and he could not believe that she had given up her life for this worthless being. Mordred's hands were clenched tightly and he vowed that he would end Arthur's life if it was the last thing he did.

The king slowly looked up to meet Mordred's narrowed eyes.


	26. Chapter 25

**So many paths that wind and wind...**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

_A/N: If someone had told me two years ago, when we began this story, that it would take us two years to complete, I would have scoffed at them! After all, the other side of the coin and I tend to be highly optimistic about time...I believe our initial estimate was that we were to be done by December of 2010! How much has changed since then...as we write here, in July of 2012. We are ecstatic, however, to be able to present to you the final chapter of our story! As we indicated before, there were initially to be 30 chapters in total. But because our last few chapters were literally 1 line each of an outline, we thought it would be better to combine, and the effect has been quite pleasing, if we do say so ourselves. Now don't be too sad (a little sad is good) - for we are not quite finished yet! There is still an epilogue, which we will try to draw out as far as possible so that you can take every satisfaction in enjoying this story to your heart's content. That is what we are doing, and perhaps why this chapter took so long to write out._

_One thing you will realize, as you read, that this chapter is full of nostalgia and would-have-been's...as we reflect on the last 24 chapters, and though you may be shocked or not shocked at all at our ending, please know that we felt we couldn't end it any other way. So, like this chapter you are about to read, I leave you with a bittersweet author's note, and this quote which sums up my feelings towards the other side of the same coin, and relates well to this chapter as well...sentimental, but true: "A single rose can be my garden...a single friend, my world." - Leo Buscaglia._

* * *

**Chapter 25**

"Better lo'ed ye cannot be, will ye not come back again."

~ Carolina Nairn

* * *

Placing another blocking charm on the opposition, Merlin jumped over a discarded shield and looked around vigilantly for any unprotected men from Arthur's side. He had no time to appreciate the change in how little energy his spells drained from him…the crystal gave Merlin unlimited energy to cast his magic. Merlin had darted here and there placing protective spells on all of Camelot's army…and this time, the shields had held. The men were able to fight back, not impeded by some magic that they had no way of retaliating against. This had given them strength…and the new turn of events seemed to reveal that the magicians possessed very few battle skills apart from their wily charms.

It was well past midday now, but the sun was still beating down on the plains and at last, clouds began to roll in, providing a much needed relief from the sun's warm embrace. Though every hand was weary holding the weight of a sword, and every shoulder ached with the weight of the chainmail, Camelot's army fought harder than they had ever fought before. The men knew they had defied the odds by surviving this long and now, anything was possible! The thought of victory began to creep into their minds; an idea that would have been absurd a few hours ago was beginning to materialize into a reality. The warriors' parched lips yearned for water, their worn feet cried for rest, but they battled on…drawing on the last vestiges of their strength, thinking of their loved ones and knowing deep inside that their valour on this day would be sung about for generations to come.

Vaguely, amongst the crowded scene, Merlin recognized a farmer that he had seen in training the day before. The man, with grey hair curling around his ears underneath an ill-fitted helmet, tackled over a magician who could not have been more than Merlin's age. The young member of Mordred's army barely put up a fight, even though he was clearly stronger than his assailant. Victorious, the old farmer raised his sword to deal the final blow and as the magician covered his face with his hands, Merlin found that he did not want to see anymore…was this the Camelot he had been defending…trying to save?

Suddenly, Merlin was uneasy.

The fighting had died down considerably around him; many of Mordred's men were simply fighting on knowing that death at the hands of Arthur's men would be much more humane than surrendering…and facing Mordred's wrath. Either way, there was no life for any of the magicians beyond this battle…

Merlin could discern the desperate looks on all their faces now and though only a few hours ago, they had ruthlessly persecuted _his _side, the wise warlock could not help but feel for his brethren. He could never know for certain how many held deep contempt for non-magical folk and truly sided with Mordred…but surely it could not be _all_ ofthese magicians.

So the tide had turned for Camelot, or so it would seem. And Merlin could not blame anybody on Arthur's site for fighting, exerting their dominance when now, it was so clear that the magicians were all but defenseless without their magic as a weapon. Exacting their revenge upon the sorcerers would not be deemed unfair; especially after all they had faced – not just in this war, but in the many small battles since Alvarr had begun his ruthless quest, now so long ago.

_But wouldn't that make us as bad as them…?_ Merlin thought to himself.

He was interrupted by a voice, out of breath. "Lord Merlin."

Merlin turned to look into the face of the old farmer, the one that only moments ago had brought down a young magician foe…brought down…but _not _killed. The young magician was now being pulled along by the old man towards Merlin. Although the young captive was still on his feet, the resistance he put up was hardly noteworthy as he slumped behind the farmer, his head downcast.

"I don't know what to do with them, my lord," the farmer spoke as he drew level with Merlin. His voice was both confused and sad. "He…none of them…are really trying. I don't know much about battle, but I know it seems wrong to…" The elderly man could not finish his sentence, but Merlin understood.

Merlin's shoulders felt lighter than they had felt in months. The old man's compassion touched Merlin deeply…he could not explain it, but somehow he knew in that moment that everything was going to be fine…Camelot was going to be fine. The Great Dragon had said for so long that Arthur would lead Camelot into its greatest age…and for the first time, Merlin could see that glorious future before his eyes.

Camelot, prosperous and shining…a beacon of opportunity for all those in the land. People would flock from all corners of the Isle just to glimpse at the noble King and his benevolent wife. One by one, more and more lands would join willingly under Camelot's rule and the citizens would thrive. Knowledge would spread freely amongst the lands and the whole island would be propelled into a bright age. And magic! It would slowly seep back into the kingdom and in time, everyone would appreciate it as a part of a land, as it had always been. It was something that couldn't be separated from the trees and the grass…it was older than the oldest foundation in the kingdom and it would last long past this golden age.

_Albion_…the word that was just a dream for so long to Merlin glimmered in front of his eyes as a reality. All of the kingdoms of the Great Isle uniting as one…

It was a magnificent moment indeed.

But Merlin was shaken back into reality by the farmer's voice. "My lord…?" the elderly man asked hesitantly, worried at Merlin's silence.

"Yes…I am sorry," Merlin said. "They must not be harmed, of course. The King will determine which is the best route to take."

The old man nodded, gladdened that Merlin had agreed with his idea. After all, he and his fellow soldiers were not like Mordred…they were not out to establish their dominance over others…they were simply fighting for their livelihoods.

Merlin sighed as the man walked away from him, dragging his captive along behind him. He could not quite put his finger on it…but he was decidedly distracted now. The idea of Albion…he could not shake it out of his head. Though they had defeated the dragon and claimed the crystal, victory was clearly not yet in their hands; even though he knew that fact, Merlin found it hard, suddenly, to run around as he had all day. Merlin knew beyond a doubt that it was the future he had seen…and somehow, knowing the future with so much certainty…it took away from the present.

He felt drained…as though he had actually lived the thousand years that he had glanced into.

The warlock did not know how long he stood in the midst of the battlefield, blank-faced and blinded to everything going on around him when unexpectedly, someone grabbed his shoulder and shook him out of his reverie.

It was a haggard looking man bearing the crest of Camelot on his chest, and he was saying something to Merlin, but the warlock did not grasp a word for at that very moment, another sound drew all his attention.

Out of its own volition, Merlin's head swiveled around at the sound of his name being called in the most desperate of tones. It was Arthur.

Merlin willed himself into action, calling on all reserves for what he knew would be the final push. Even as he ran to the source of the voice, he sensed that some calamity had to have befallen for Arthur to sound so urgent.

His path was obstructed not by fighting magicians, but by hordes of warriors who were turning to see what had happened to their commander. As he got closer to the central area of the plains, Merlin had to push through hundreds of people, none of whom were attempting to fight…the battle in this part of the field had all but ceased.

As Merlin hurried towards Arthur, pushing people out of the way, the dread took hold. What had happened that was so bad to make all these men stop fighting? It wasn't just Camelot's army…but the opposition was also scrambling to move closer to the disturbance.

With a growing sense of dread, Merlin realized that Mordred was somehow involved… but then, his half-brother had lost at least half, if not more, of his power with the dragon being torn from his soul. Perhaps Merlin should have dealt with him first, before going off to protect the soldiers…he should have…

Scolding himself, Merlin tried to justify the cause of Arthur's cry…no, nothing _bad_ could have happened. He had just seen what would come to pass…and Arthur was the architect of the future. He had to live - he just _had _to.

From beyond the wall of people, he heard another scream of anguish – that of his half-brother – and in that instant, he knew exactly what had transpired. Fear clutched his heart. Perhaps Arthur's fate was set in stone…but hers…

Her life hung in the balance still…and judging by the sound of Mordred's howl, the scale had tipped.

Not wanting to believe it, he recklessly pushed a young knight out of the way, almost throwing him to the ground. Merlin made his way hurriedly to the front of the crowd, leaping over broken spears and lances, his heart throbbing in his chest. Just before he broke through the last barrier of knights between himself and Arthur, he took a deep breath trying to steady himself.

There was _nothing_ that could have prepared him for the sight…

The scene that met his eyes was one that he would never forget; it would haunt him till his last breath.

On the ground, the King clutched a mangled body, all thoughts of the war far from Arthur's mind. A spear jutted from the bosom of the victim, her pale face white as a sheet…her cold hands as chilly as death. The guilty culprit stood overhead, tears falling fast, his face contorted into an animalistic expression, his scar giving him a monstrous look. He looked comparable to a man who had been to hell and back, and even after having taken that journey, the sight of the lifeless body before him brought him more pain than any of his other sufferings.

Merlin had never imagined – nobody would have ever foreseen – that it would end this way. He remembered Morgana as the young and beautiful ward, ever armed with her noble conscience and compelling tongue; the soft, kind eyes that could light a room with one look, and the striking, piercing gaze that could light a fire of desire in a man's heart with another.

Merlin had always imagined that she would have grown older, living out the rest of her days in the lap of luxury, married to a powerful nobleman. He knew that she would not have settled for just any nobleman, just because he was rich. Wealth was important to Morgana, yes, but even more importantly, she would have judged him on his awareness and his sense of responsibility owed to the world around him. He would have to have understood her…known her privileged upbringing but also been aware of why she felt so trapped in it. She had deserved a man like that…someone who could challenge her, share in her interests and most of all, keep her happy. Maybe after she would have married, she would have left the castle and become the Lady of her own castle. Merlin had always imagined that she would have had a daughter…a priestess of the Old Religion like her mother, her grandmother and those before her. And finally, after bringing about a storm of change and reform, in her old age, she would have peacefully passed on from this world onto the next, surrounded by those that loved her.

Morgana had deserved a rich, full life…there was so much potential, so much waiting for her…

So suddenly, it had all ended for her.

He shook his head, not wanting to believe what his eyes were conveying to his brain. Merlin saw her pale skin, and her unmoving chest and the reality began to sink in deeper. On her neck, he saw the Druid symbol that had tumbled out from underneath her silver armour, the symbol that he had given her when she had come to him in the dead of the night. It was the symbol for Life…what an ironic game life was. How the Druid symbol taunted him now…

Even with the grotesque spear jutting out of her chest, she was flawless. Nothing could refute that fact…not the dirt on her face, nor the ash tangled in her hair…

Merlin had always looked upon Morgana from afar, admiring her as a sparrow did the moon, always feeling her beauty, longing for it, even, but never considering the possibility that she could actually be his. And even after what had happened between them the previous night…he had still felt she was beyond his reach…not knowing that Death would step in between and separate them further.

There was so much that had gone unsaid...so many regrets.

Never in a million years, would Merlin have imagined her life intertwining with his in such an intimate manner. They had grown together far more than he would have ever dreamed possible.

Of course, like every other man in the castle, when Merlin had first laid eyes on Morgana, he had felt an instant attraction towards her. Yet, in his early days in Camelot, Merlin felt that he just was not worthy to be involved with Morgana in that sense. He dared not even think of anything transpiring between them…but that had changed. Over the last few months, he had established a relationship with Morgana, a friendship…an understanding.

It had been turbulent, of course; nothing with Morgana was ever simple…there was the matter of betrayed trust, of abandonment, of loneliness unexpressed…

But now…he could not define the relationship now that circumstances had changed so much since they first met…

Last night, it had not been a romantic notion, but a deep desire to connect with somebody that had driven them into each other's arms. Beyond a doubt, it felt refreshing to Merlin that he was able to share a moment with someone…even if it was only temporary. But though a part of him wanted to believe they could find each other again once this war was over, he had mostly resigned himself to the fact that Morgana was supposed to rebuild her life and establish herself as the Lady of Camelot. Once she had regained that post, she would find her happiness and maybe even in time, find it _with_ someone…someone to share her life with, a person _unlike_ Merlin, who had not seen the darkest parts of the world.

As he stood there, these many thoughts passing through his head, all in the space of a few moments, he realized that all along, above all, in Merlin's perspective, Morgana deserved to be cared for in every way…and the young Merlin arriving at Camelot had inherently known that Morgana had been out of his grasp, but this Merlin knew now _why_ Morgana and he could never have anything tangible between them…only fleeting moments that they could try hold on to. Merlin, with his destiny, would always carry a burden…something he could never unload on anyone, at least not anyone in this world. His very life revolved around magic, whether it was his or others, while for Morgana, magic had been an aspect of her life, not the entirety of it. She was a complete person well before her magic was established, while Merlin could not remember a time when he existed without his gifts. It was proof enough that even after Morgana's magic had been stripped away by Mordred, she still continued to exist. Merlin knew that if his magic had been taken from him…it would have destroyed him in an instant. And deep within him, Merlin knew that the reason for that was that his gifts were given to him for a purpose…a destiny – to see Arthur ascend the throne – and beyond that…what the Old Religion had in store for him, he did not know.

Merlin's thoughts had become jumbled, confused…his boundless grief pushing him into the past, into thoughts of futures not yet claimed, of possibilities – what if's and contradictions.

It was better than facing the reality in front of him.

Returning to his inner monologue, he asked himself, probing beneath the surface, just _how_ much Morgana had meant to him, knowing that the reins of his life were not always in his hands. How could he have had anything to offer to Morgana? Not just to her, but to any woman? Deep down, maybe he had always known that his destiny was so great that it had taken away every chance at a normal life, including a normal love. Which was why he had never sought anything out for himself…until Freya. But how tragically that had ended…

And yet, instead of distancing himself from Morgana, he had failed to shy away when they grew closer. It did not matter what his original intentions had been or even if what he had sought from her was a companionship, not a romance. In the end, somehow it was _he_ that was standing over another body…it was _he_ who was still alive, but only the gods knew how utterly broken he was on the inside.

The emotion that threatened to overwhelm him beyond any other was not his sadness or grief, but guilt. Guilt that he had not been there to save her. Guilt that it had taken him so long for him to trust her. Guilt that he had denied for so long how much she meant to him.

The plan of the Old Religion had been cruel to Morgana, Merlin decided, his mind numb with disbelief. In so many ways, Morgana had been a much more wholesome person than Merlin could ever be. The warlock wondered whether the old gods saw her like he did. Perhaps if they had, they would not have taken her…

No tears fell from Merlin's eyes…the emotions he felt at her loss touched his core, and tears would have done nothing to express the depths of his pathos. His body felt like it had been replaced with lead. Unable to move, Merlin stood as still as a statue, staring at the three figures in front of him…

There was the King, about whom so much was foreseen and so much written, but at the moment, a mere man who had yet to face a real test in front of his people…and now that it was here, it was no small ordeal; this man's legacy would be determined by this battle.

The Lady, once regarded in such high-esteem by others, fallen from grace…but had death had brought back her dignity? She had fought valiantly, she had died in the noblest of ways…sacrificing herself for a greater purpose. Merlin had expected nothing less from her, knowing in his head that it had been Arthur's life, or hers, and she had made that terrible choice. He too had made a similar choice a long while ago, but he would never have been able to make that decision again…for now to choose between his best friend and her would be a betrayal of his very soul…and at least, she had spared him that agony.

And above them, stood the Monster, who for so long had searched for nothing more than acceptance. A gift that everyone else seemed to take for granted...it was a courtesy that no one had ever extended to him. He had sought Arthur's acceptance when he offered his allegiance and his magic to him…but Arthur had rebuffed him. He had offered Morgana his very soul…and she had rejected his love. And despite all his acts, all his strength and his dominion over his magician army, above all, he had just wanted to belong…

* * *

_Belonging_…was it perhaps too much to wish for in life?

It didn't matter anymore…Mordred knew that Morgana had been the one person who would have accepted him on some level and because of _Arthur_, she was gone too…yes, it was Mordred who had dealt the final blow, but it was Arthur's foolish ideas about the kingdom and freedom and unity that had always held Morgana back from giving herself to Mordred. Arthur had long before today caused her ultimate demise. It was _Arthur's_ hand that led to this unthinkable deed. Mordred had completely forgotten all thoughts of his half-brother and his contribution to the end of his first and last love, Morgana.

At this moment, there was only one man who Mordred's wrath was threatening to erupt upon.

Mordred's tears turned bitter as he regarded Arthur's shaking form at his feet. Mordred knew that that's where the King belonged…but not _her_.

* * *

Merlin, too wrapped up in his own thoughts, did not see Mordred's eyes changing colour as they met Arthur's eyes.

As always, Mordred himself did not know what fury would unleash from his spell, but his instinct guided him. Unpredictable as always, Mordred's tendency to destroy emerged from within. With a furious scream, Mordred raised his hand and a great ball of flame sprouted from his hand. Before any of the growing crowd had a chance to react, Mordred directed his hand, with a thrust, towards the King. The giant orb of fire sped towards Arthur…

There was no time.

Merlin wanted to open his mouth, shout a warning. He wanted to tell Arthur to duck, to evade it or at least pick up his weaponry for the warlock had placed protective charms on them. Under normal circumstances, he would have been able to slow down time so that he could put up a shield using the crystal…he had always been able to do that without any conscious magic. But today he was weighed down by the pain of this latest loss, and his mind did not react as quickly as it usually would. The magician, for once, was unable to protect his friend.

This time, it was not Merlin, but Arthur who rose above his sorrows and despair. He had seen the split second change in Mordred's eyes and he did not know how he managed it, but from somewhere there emerged an inner burst of energy and he lunged for Excalibur that lay a few feet away.

His fingers grasped the familiar hilt of the sword and he swung it forward. There was a deafening noise as Excalibur met the flaming orb, and the magic of Kilgharrah combined with the spells of Merlin, repelled the magic caused by Mordred's rage, causing the fire to spit in all other directions. The onlookers, except for Merlin, bounced backwards to avoid the burning flames.

Arthur held the sword steady in one hand as the remnants of Mordred's spell continued to bounce off it. Lowering Morgana carefully with the other hand, Arthur rose quickly and stepped over his foster sister's body, vowing to avenge her this moment. As distraught as he was, he knew this was his chance…and in his chance lay all their chances.

For the briefest of seconds, Arthur and Mordred regarded each other. Mind too traumatized to think, Arthur's had only one plan: avoid dying himself before killing the man before him.

Mordred, on the other hand, had done nothing since releasing his fire-ball. He was only continuing to look at Arthur with pure hatred and had not even reached for a weapon. The boy _had _to know that with Excalibur in his hands, Arthur could not be harmed by magic. Still, Mordred made no move to arm himself.

Arthur tried to compose himself, breathing slowly. He could see a mad fire in Mordred's eyes as he kept glancing between Arthur and Morgana as if it was the King's fault that she was dead. Mordred's eyes went to Morgana and he looked like her as though he was a starving man in a desert and she was an oasis. He appeared deranged, blinking, and staring at a corpse when everyone around him had their eyes on him, waiting for a battle to transpire between the two leaders.

This was Arthur's chance. So distracted Mordred was that Arthur was certain he would not notice if he attacked him at this moment. He could end this _now_…

And yet, somewhere within Arthur, he found the strength to retain some shred of his innate nobility. He gulped and in a shaky voice shouted, "Raise your sword and fight me…you COWARD!"

The king's words snapped Mordred out of his trance. Not thinking, not caring about anything except wanting to cause Arthur as much harm as possible, Mordred did not even let Arthur finish his sentence. Grabbing his sword from his belt, he recklessly charged at Arthur.

It was all over in a quick flash. Arthur held his ground, waiting for Mordred to reach him. For a moment, the two bodies collided and there was a gasp in the audience. But it was Arthur who pulled his sword out swiftly and as the King stepped back, Mordred's body crumpled in a heap. The limp body, fittingly, collapsed at Morgana's feet.

The silence was deafening on the fields of Camlann. Arthur let Excalibur fall, which was now stained with Mordred's blood, and it clattered on a shield and fell to the ground.

As quickly as that…Mordred was dead.

One by one, the army of Camelot turned their swords towards the magicians, and knowing they were beaten, especially now that that they had nothing to fight for and no leader to terrorize them into fighting, the magicians raise their hands and fell to their knees, surrendering to Camelot.

Now, it was well and truly over.

Cheers began to hail from all over the plains as nearby citizens of Camelot hugged each other in celebration. Meanwhile, others navigated amongst the crowd looking for friends and neighbours that they had lost track of during the battle, hoping against hope that their loved ones had survived. Others fell to their knees and hid their face in their hands, emotion overwhelming them…feeling immensely grateful that they would be able to go home and hold their families in their arms.

In the midst of all the commotion, Merlin had not moved an inch. Inside, his sensation was slowly returning to him. He saw men around him express every kind of emotion known to man…the magicians from Mordred's side were looking frightened, while the magicians Merlin had recruited were smiling proudly as many common soldiers approached them, giving them their heartfelt thanks. And there were some who were laughing with friends while others were crying…whether it was for the losses they had suffered or if it was out of joy, Merlin could not tell. An emotion akin to relief swept over Merlin and despite the sadness he felt over the recent deaths he had witnessed, he knew that his task was complete. He slipped the crystal back into his robes.

Meanwhile, Arthur had escaped from the embrace of all his remaining knights who had converged upon him, and was clambering towards Merlin. He was the one person that Arthur wanted to share this bittersweet moment with.

When he reached Merlin, he pulled his best friend into a hug.

To Arthur's surprise, Merlin was shaking and held on to Arthur's chainmail tightly. When Arthur finally stepped back, he noticed that Merlin looked slightly shocked and his eyes were glistening softly in the sunlight. For Arthur, it meant more than anything in the world that Merlin was here next to him, as he had always been. Even though they had just won the war and the relief and joy of that was immeasurable, Arthur simultaneously felt a crushing pain in his chest that Morgana was gone, and only Merlin would truly be able to understand that pain on this battlefield.

There were no words that needed to be exchanged between them. Together, they walked back towards Morgana's body, and even in the few paces between where Merlin had been standing and her body, they were congratulated by at least ten people. Merlin deftly avoided a few men, but Arthur could not evade any of them and he was obligated to accept the well-wishes of his people, when all he wanted to do was mourn Morgana's death in private.

Alone amidst the hordes of people, Merlin approached Morgana and knelt by her body and with shaky hands, pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

Victory came at a great price.

He looked around for Arthur, but again, the King had been surrounded by another large group and dutifully, he was shaking hands with each man and expressing his gratitude for their service. Merlin knew that he should be doing the same, especially since Arthur had given him such a high position, that of High Sorcerer…but in this matter, Merlin realized that Arthur was much stronger than he. He could not summon the energy to speak to anyone, not even the magicians who had risked their lives and fought for Arthur based on _his_ urging. For now, his eyes fell back on Morgana, and his gaze fell on the spear that so invasively disturbed her otherwise peaceful figure.

Merlin placed his hands on the spear and as gently as he could, he pulled it out of her and threw it aside. The gaping hole that the spear left told Merlin that there was nothing he could have done. It had pierced her too deeply and damaged too many organs. But…why would this feeling of guilt not leave him? As though there was something more he should have done for her.

At long last, Arthur untangled himself from his people and joined Merlin, kneeling beside him. The king placed his hand on the sorcerer's shoulder.

"I…there was nothing I could have done," Arthur said softly.

Merlin nodded, wishing that his throat was less tight so he could speak and tell Arthur that he didn't blame him in the slightest, and that he also hoped that Arthur did not blame _him_ for not being there.

"He came out of nowhere…and…" Arthur stopped and swallowed heavily. "I guess…I never thought that he would have…I did not realize she had stepped in between…I shouldn't have let her come."

Even in his grief, the intellectual part of Merlin knew that there was nothing Arthur could have done differently. If he had forbidden Morgana from coming, that would have accomplished nothing except make her feel even more lost and helpless than before.

Suddenly, Merlin realized that he needed to get her out of this place. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see many dead and he wished to see her away from all this death and destruction. Merlin felt that Morgana deserved a better goodbye than here in the bloody battlefield.

And even around them now, he saw men gathering, awaiting further orders from the King. They all waited respectfully, but Merlin knew that for now, Arthur had to focus on the living.

Merlin turned to Arthur and trying to control the emotions that threatened to break his voice, he said, "Arthur…I will take Morgana home. This is not the place to grieve." He tipped his head indicating to the growing crowd around them. "You must put on a brave front for your people. They have fought valiantly for you today. We could not have done this without them. Our loss is not the only one."

Arthur nodded and brushed his tears away with the sleeve of his chainmail. "I will address them now and I will come with you…and we will take her home together. I owe her that much, at least."

Garnering the last amount of energy he had left, Arthur picked up his sword, rose to his feet and raised Excalibur high into the air.

The crowd responded with the loudest cheer yet and many imitated Arthur's gesture and thrust their weapons into the air too.

Finally, the cheers died down, as the people waited for Arthur to speak. Even though the whole army had gone quiet, it was easy to sense the growing jubilation that was beginning to sink in…

Arthur felt very far away from all of the proceedings, and heard his voice speaking loudly, as though he was outside his body. "My friends…victory is ours!" At this, the people clapped enthusiastically. "The victory you celebrate is not just mine…but it belongs to _each_ and _every_ one of you. You have all fought with such courage and determination that fate had no choice but to hand us this triumph."

Arthur did not know where he was getting the strength to address his people from, but he doubted that he had ever felt such conflicting emotions ever before…huge relief that it was all over and immense grief at the losses that his kingdom had suffered. Perhaps this was one of the hardest speeches he would ever have to give.

The crowd cheered at the pause in Arthur's speech and in the very front, Arthur could see only two remnants of his original group of knights still standing. One a bleeding, but very much alive, Lancelot. And at Lancelot's side, Arthur saw Gareth smiling widely. Arthur was eternally grateful, indebted to them for leading his army to victory. But many more had begun the journey with him, and now at the end of the battle it was just the two of them…

In years to come, Arthur never remembered how he got through the next few minutes.

He swallowed his sorrow heavily and continued, words falling from his mouth without conscious thought. "We will now return to Camelot to rebuild a better nation."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Mordred's magicians interspersed between his men and they were still on their knees in a position of surrender. He realized that it was important he address this matter, and futile to defer it to later – it would only cause many men more hours of pain, and Arthur would not stand for that. "None of the magicians who fought for the other side that have surrendered are to be injured in any way. We will take them as our prisoners, but they will be treated with respect and face a tribunal of our people to decide their future."

Arthur addressed the prisoners who were looking slightly less frightened now. "The tribunal you will face will be made up of both magic and non-magic folk and rest assured, your voice will be heard. Those of who you wish to return to your homelands will be escorted there peacefully, and those that wish to make a new life here, you will be given a fair chance."

The King inside him wanted them all to know that the kindness he was extending to them was not to be taken advantage of…it was not a weakness that could be exploited to cause anarchy. "And let this be a warning for all: that we in Camelot will tolerate our differences in beliefs and abilities but we will not tolerate intolerance or those who brew violence." His tone was firm, and the citizens' respect for their captain grew.

The prisoners looked more relieved at Arthur's words and a ghost of a smile even appeared on one of two of their faces.

It was almost over, Arthur told himself. Just a few more words and he could leave…and see Gwen…and together, they could mourn the loss of their dearest friend. At this moment, Arthur vowed that as King he would ensure that all other options were exhausted before engaging in war. The pain and loss he felt now made war an unjustifiable act. While as a young Prince he had dreamt of the glory and honour of battle, he knew that no such thing existed. There _was _honour. There _was _glory. But they did not come from waging war…they came from valuing peace above all things, and war only as a last resort…an act of compassion, not of violence.

Arthur began to speak again. "We cannot build this new kingdom in a day…but because of your sacrifice and the hundreds that laid down their lives for us, we have hope. Let us honour the fallen with a proper burial and let us ensure the wounded get immediate care."

The King's eyes fell on Merlin's and the warlock in that moment felt more respect for Arthur than he had ever felt before. The fact that he was able to speak to his people at this time…and not just speak empty words to them, but address them with such powerful and thoughtful ideas. For so long, Arthur had relied on Merlin, sometimes knowingly and oftentimes, Merlin had assisted his friend without Arthur ever being aware. But in this moment, Merlin knew without a doubt that Arthur would be able to guide his people well…with or without Merlin's help. And that made Merlin feel so proud that he felt his heart was about to burst.

For a brief second, he managed to forget his sorrows and recalled the memory of the prat that had bullied him in the courtyard. How amusing that that very same brat was now going to be the greatest king the world had ever known!

Arthur saw Merlin give him a small smile and it gave him the final bit of courage to finish his speech with as much gusto as he could muster.

"I will now ride with the Court Sorcerer to Camelot to personally take word of our victory to the citizens back home. I will see to it that healers ride at once to the battlefield to tend to those whose injuries are so severe that they cannot be transported home. We have paid a heavy price for freedom, but let us from now until our last breath, make the most of this gift."

The King paused, catching his breath, and over the growing applause, he shouted, "For the love of Camelot!"

Camelot began to chant his name fervently – they knew that he had carried the weight of the nation on his shoulders today and for that, this kingdom would forever remain loyal to him…

"Long live King Arthur!" More and more voices added to the first and in unison, they shouted over the plains of Camlann for all the world to hear.

"Long live King Arthur! LONG LIVE THE KING!"

* * *

Merlin watched Arthur's retreating back ride away on a horse with Morgana's lifeless body. He had had a sudden change of heart as he had mounted a horse to accompany Arthur with Morgana back to Camelot. Almost as though he was possessed by some unknown force, he had jumped off his horse only a moment after climbing on, and had told Arthur to return to Camelot without him because he needed a few minutes. Fortunately, Arthur had neither questioned his decision nor argued.

As he made his way back to his destination, determined, he watched as slowly, one by one, people began to journey towards the city. There were some men who were helping those that were less seriously injured back to the city, either by lending them their shoulders, or by helping them onto a horse. Only a few horses had been brought to the battle so a few men were placed in charge of deciding whose need was greatest to receive a horse for the short ride back to the castle. There were some that chose to take the walk back to the city instead of waiting for horses, their need to see their families outweighing the pain of their injuries.

Word of the victory had already reached Camelot, for Merlin saw people bearing the banner with the dragon of Camelot ride towards them. There was a small clump of horses riding behind the bannermen. Likely they were healers and physicians who were coming to aid those too weak to make the journey in their current state. He wondered whether Gaius was with them, but reasoned that the court physician likely wanted to stay back in the city and oversee operations.

There were a select few men, ones that possessed extreme strength of mind that saw to the collecting of the dead bodies. They made their way across the field, lifting not just the bodies themselves but also the belongings around the body so they could be returned to the families. They placed the dead from Camelot on one side and dead amongst the magicians on the other. Soon, carts would arrive from Camelot to take the dead back home. Presumably, the women and children would have emerged from the dungeons by then and would be lining the streets of the city to pay their respects for those who gave their lives to keep them all safe.

Merlin was thankful for the slowly emptying plains; he wanted a few moments to himself.

He zigzagged his way through the workers, occasionally picking up conversations, but mostly everyone was working away silently. Now that everything was said and done, the exhaustion was beginning to set in and they all wanted nothing more than to return to the city and perhaps down a few ales.

The Court Sorcerer had no trouble finding what he was looking for; it was not difficult as that was the one spot on the battlefield that people made a special effort to avoid. It was the dead body that nobody else wanted to approach.

Rather sadly, Merlin looked upon the black locks and the pair of icy blue eyes that were staring emptily into the sky. In death, they looked rather empty of emotion and not menacing at all. To his surprise, Merlin found that the anger that he had expected to surface as he regarded the face of the man who had brought about so much suffering was far away. Not when he was like this in an undignified heap with a pool of blood seeping from his wound where Excalibur had pierced him.

A few passersby were giving Merlin strange looks, but they knew better than to interrupt the powerful warlock.

Lowering himself down, Merlin gently placed his fingertips over the dead man's eyelids and closed the eyes. Merlin was on the side where Mordred's scar was obscured and from this angle, he looked less of a monster and more of a young boy whose fate had forever been against him.

Merlin took a step back and stood silently over the body of his half-brother. Would it ever have been a different ending for him, Merlin wondered. Something told him that there was a darkness in Mordred that would have threatened to consume him no matter what had happened…

After all, he had committed terrible, heinous crimes. He had murdered Hunith and countless other innocents, had killed Kilgharrah, the great dragon of their age, had subjugated another dragon, had tried to force himself upon Morgana, had killed her, his one well-wisher, without meaning to in his blind rage.

Merlin's anger then started to rise, like bile in his throat. He forgot that Mordred was dead and gone, and instead began to dwell on how much pain he had caused him, and how much Merlin had wanted to hurt him back. His fists clenched.

It was wrong…perverse perhaps…but Merlin could not help but wonder for a brief moment if Mordred had known. If Mordred had known that Merlin, his despised half-brother, had held Morgana in his arms, had kissed her and touched her and felt her touch in return, had felt her very soul…if that itself would have destroyed Mordred, without any bloodshed.

But that was neither here nor there, Merlin realized, his hands relaxing. Mordred was a boy – only a boy – grown up too fast, too soon, not ready for the trials of adulthood, his heart not ready for the heartbreak of rejection, when his life had always been so void of love.

And pity again replaced the anger.

Merlin wanted to let go, to move on but could not resist trying to envision a happier scenario. One in which Merlin and Mordred had grown up together and practiced magic together. And Balinor had laughed and lived more and taught them about dragon lore.

With these pleasant thoughts, Merlin said a brief spell and at once, the flames began to flicker around the body.

He did not know why he was affording Mordred this courtesy…but it seemed right.

Maybe he was doing it for the father they shared, Balinor….or maybe it was for Mordred's unknown mother. Or maybe it was for Morgana…how hard she had tried to save the young Druid boy's life all those years ago. Perhaps it was for himself…for the chance at normalcy was long lost for both of Balinor's sons and if things had been different, countless lives that could have been saved.

Was it right to even feel pity for his brother's soul, especially here on these plains when even just looking around him, he could _see_ visual evidence of Mordred's destruction? But Merlin knew that _he _had played a part in the destruction as well and though he could not seek forgiveness for his own soul, he could at least seek forgiveness for Mordred's.

And that thought made him question. _Was_ it too late for Merlin to seek redemption? He contemplated this as the flames blazed higher.

As the fire consumed Mordred's body, Merlin waited with his hands clasped, staring at the embers that were slowly beginning to die down.

The smoke billowed around him and he diverted his eyes downwards. He looked at his hands, noticing for the first time that they were stained with dirt and brown stains that could only be blood.

These hands had protected the future king time and time again as they fought off threat after threat. They had done extraordinary things…even though some of those deeds had been terrible. _These _were the hands that had held the keys to an entire kingdom for all these years…but no more. Arthur was King now and today had confirmed that he no longer needed a voice to tell him what to do…he had grown into a King and he would be able to make the difficult decisions needed on behalf of his nation. No longer did Arthur need a guardian watching his every move as Merlin had done for so long.

Merlin's task was complete.

As the smoke from the flame swirled higher and higher into the evening sky, Merlin watched it, feeling a peculiar sense of freedom envelop him. At long last, he could do what _he_ wanted without fearing for the future of thousands.

Merlin's gift had been given to him for a reason…to fulfill his destiny and make Arthur King. The question of what happened after he fulfilled his destiny…this was the issue that had kept him awake increasingly more over time.

The answer he had been seeking for the last few months…the one he had been drawing closer and closer to was finally revealed as the veil lifted.

Soon, very soon, he would be going home.

* * *

The drawbridge was so crowded that there was no way Merlin could get past it into the castle. It was crammed to the brink with both warriors and women. The men returning from Camlann were trying to enter the castle, but the women from the dungeons were trying to make their way towards the men and the result was that both parties were unable to accomplish their task.

Merlin's head hurt as everywhere he heard names of people being called. Sadly, for many, there would be no reply to their call.

Having lived at the castle for years had its advantages. Merlin passed by the main entrance to the castle and walked around the castle walls to a side door that he knew led directly into the courtyard. On this path, there were hardly any people, and so the magician rushed along undisturbed. Reaching the door that was partially hidden by ivy, Merlin pushed it open and his head split open again at the noise that was coming from the courtyard.

Merlin had spent more time than he had anticipated affording Mordred a final courtesy because during that time, many more had found their way back to Camelot. The late evening sun shone overhead, smiling benevolently upon the courtyard that was filled with triumphant calls. Many women and children were clinging on to their relatives as if they never wanted to let go. Merlin even spotted shop owners from the city who had set up stations around the area to give away free food…and of course, ale.

Somehow, Merlin was able to appreciate all these small details, a task that would have been impossible only a few hours ago. Performing Mordred's last rites had been a huge catharsis for him. He had been able to _think_…and now that he had the answer to the question, the matter that had evaded him for so long…there was a clear path ahead, and it was not long now before he had to follow the script.

There was such a commotion everywhere that Merlin had no idea where to go, or how to get where he wanted to be. He was pushed here and there by people jostling about.

A scarlet cloak caught his eye and he noted that it was one of the knights that had been left responsible for guarding the city. Running to catch him, Merlin nearly tripped over many discarded helmets, spears and swords. He grabbed the young knight's arm, rather suddenly, frightening him.

"Where are they?" Merlin asked urgently, not bothering to specify the details.

"They are in Lady Morgana's chamber, my lord sorcerer," the knight responded, his voice slightly nervous at being addressed directly by Merlin.

The young knight, Lamorak, had been one of the few that had witnessed the first messenger arriving through the gates, declaring joyfully that Camelot had emerged victorious. At once the knights at their stations had rejoiced and some had gone to inform the women and children.

A short time later, the King himself had arrived, riding at a furious pace through the gates. They had all been surprised to see their lord arrive alone…and so quickly, but at once they had known something was wrong. The King had dismounted and carried a small chainmail-clad figure, a woman, up to the castle, as though his feet had wings. At very that moment, the women began to come out from the dungeons led by the Queen, Guinevere. As she emerged from the main doors, upon seeing her husband and the woman in his arms, she had screamed and ran towards the pair. Lamorak had been close enough to see the pair exchange a few words as Gwen tried to control her sobs. He had seen them walk straight through the doors, and instead of going to the Great Hall where the hospital wing had been set up, they went up the winding staircase to the Lady Morgana's room. And that was the time when Lamorak had realized that it was too late for the Lady.

Upon hearing the knight's answer, Merlin rushed past him and sprinted up the stairs to the castle, taking two steps at a time. When he entered the castle, it was a small relief as it was quiet inside, the stone walls blocking out most of the sound from the courtyard.

The evening light was further dulled as it was filtered through the glass windows and the warlock hurried even more, knowing that every second counted. Merlin ascended the winding staircase leading to Morgana's room, preparing himself for facing his friends…understanding how helpless his friends must be feeling for he too had been feeling those emotions just a little while ago.

They had left the door slightly ajar to Morgana's chamber, and Merlin knew that it was for his benefit.

Hesitantly, he pushed the door quietly, not wanting to startle anyone. As he stepped inside the room, the air of elation that had surrounded the rest of the city was sucked dry and instead, inside there was heavy sorrow and regret.

Every face in the room turned to him as he entered and he didn't quite meet anyone's eyes. Instead, Merlin approached the foot of the bed, preoccupied with looking at his own feet. He noticed that Morgana's body had been placed carefully on her own bed. She had been respectfully covered so that her wound was not visible. They had removed her chainmail for she was now wearing the simple white tunic that she had been wearing underneath her armour. From Merlin's vantage point, it looked as though she was sleeping comfortably.

It was still a moving sight though to look around her. She was surrounded by those that had loved her the most.

Arthur was kneeling near the head of the bed, his hands were folded and his head was resting in it. It almost looked like he was praying, but Merlin knew better. He was trying to hide his tears, trying to be strong for the sake of his wife, who seemed to be inconsolable.

On one side of Morgana, Gwen was sitting on the bed, clutching Morgana's shoulders and sobbing into her hair. And Merlin was surprised to see that his mentor, Gaius, was also present in the room. At present, he was trying to comfort Gwen by patting her back, but Merlin did not miss the grief in the old man's eyes.

As minutes dragged by, Gwen's sobs began to subside slightly under Gaius gentle care.

Merlin had taken so much about Gaius for granted – his knowledge, his advice…not appreciating that all of these came with years of experience. Now, he was sure that those years came with plenty of moments such as this one. How much pain had Gaius suffered over the years? How many unnamable deeds had he witnessed? And how much more could he bear to see before the end of his days?

Once again, Gaius glanced up at his favourite pupil, only to see him already staring back at him with an unreadable expression.

The court physician left his post by Gwen and came to Merlin. Merlin sensed that Gaius had wanted to do this the minute he entered the room, but had held it together for Gwen's sake.

"My dear boy," he said as he embraced Merlin. Gaius could not express how grateful he had been when he had heard from Arthur that Merlin was on his way…above all, that Merlin was _alive_.

At Gaius' words, Arthur and Gwen, too, raised their heads again to look at Merlin.

However, Gwen's expression told a different story from Gaius'. She looked at Merlin beseechingly, almost begging him to do something…_anything_. Almost as if she had held on to some small hope that Merlin could perform some miracle…as he had so many times in the past. Never yet had Merlin let down Gwen and a small part of her had foolishly hoped that it wasn't the end yet.

Gwen had spent the entire day in the dungeons beneath the castle with no word about the battle…having nothing to do but pray for her husband and friends. The others had been just as helpless, but they, unlike her, could afford to behave however irrationally they wanted to. But Gwen had to perform her duties as Queen. And she tried to do so as valiantly as she could, knowing that at least if she wasn't fighting alongside her people, she could maintain some calmness, and help the women wage their battle within themselves; she helped the others keep their composure.

The hours had ticked by and the children grew more restless and still no word. Finally, just when Gwen thought she could stand it no longer, a knight had arrived into the depth of their hideout and proclaimed that Camelot had won the war. The women had gasped and cried, but Gwen had had no time to even sigh in relief. She immediately saw to escorting people back into the courtyard, only indulging in exchanging a brief look of comfort with Elaine. She had been happy beyond belief at the news, but she could not lose her head yet…not until she had seen that her friends were safe. And then, as soon as she had entered the courtyard, it seemed as though one of her nightmares had come to pass.

No matter what Morgana had done in the past…she was Gwen's dearest friend. And Gwen had spent so much time worrying about Arthur's and Merlin's safety that she had not expected _this_ to happen. She just could not control her tears as she continued to plead with Merlin silently with her eyes. Was there _nothing_ he could do? Gwen needed Morgana to know, needed to tell her that she was like her sister…that she did not care what Morgana had done in the past, that Gwen had always known that Morgana had her heart in the right place.

As Gwen's body shook with another sob, Merlin gently pulled away from Gaius and made his way towards Gwen. He was able to pull her from Morgana's still body and she held on to him tightly, her tears still silently flowed into his shirt. He patted her hair comfortingly.

"Don't worry, Gwen. It's not the end…there is a way," Merlin said softly, knowing that those were the words she wanted to hear more than any other.

At these words, Gwen's whole body which had been so tense, suddenly relaxed as she drew back to look at his face. She tried to see if he was just telling her that to make her feel better or whether there was some truth to his words. Upon seeing his sincere expression, she hastily wiped her tears on her sleeves.

Gwen's reaction and Merlin's words had finally sparked a reaction from the King. Arthur had arisen from his position and was swiftly making his way towards Merlin, his hand on Excalibur…ready to face anything to bring her back.

The hope in the room was palpable.

"What should I do?" Arthur asked urgently, looking around the room half expecting a sign to point him in the right direction. "Is there a herb you need? A special object? Name it – I will retrieve it for you…what should I do, Merlin?" Arthur was desperate to act.

Merlin, however, placed his hand on his restless friend's shoulder. "Nothing," he replied simply. His mind for the first time in months was calm. "I must take Morgana and go alone…and quickly. Time is of essence."

Immediately, he was met with resistance. "No," Gwen retorted sharply, very uncharacteristically. "Wherever you are going, we will come with you."

Opening his mouth to speak, Merlin tried to think of something that could dissuade Gwen from accompanying him, but upon having no satisfactory reply, he had to close his mouth. Merlin knew there was no point losing time in arguing because he knew Gwen was going to be adamant. And maybe there was a tiny part of him that did not want to make this journey alone.

There was a point, though, where Merlin had to put his foot down. Merlin knew that no matter how hard it would be for Arthur and Gwen to witness Morgana's revival…it would be immeasurably harder for Gaius. He could not simply state his reasoning to Gaius, but the old man approached him suspiciously.

"What is your plan, Merlin?" Gaius asked, under his breath, with a hint of worry creeping into his voice.

Gwen and Arthur had already repositioned Morgana so it would be easier for one person to lift her.

Without responding to Gaius, Merlin turned away from the Court physician, and went and stood beside Arthur to help him lift Morgana off the bed and into his arms.

"We will need horses," Merlin said to Gwen, wanting to keep everyone busy…desperately wanting all of them to stay focused on the tasks at hand and not have their thoughts wander to _what_ the plan would entail…but at the same time, a very small part of Merlin wanted someone to probe further…so that he could explain why this was the only way, because there may come a time when a justification may not be possible…and he wanted these people, more than any others, to think the best of him.

However, hearing his words, Gwen at once rushed off to make arrangements for three horses to be brought to the courtyard.

Arthur, with Morgana in his arms, followed his wife down the stairs a few paces behind, and as Merlin made to follow him, Gaius pulled his arm back.

"Merlin…" Gaius said with warning in his voice. "She is _dead_," Gaius whispered trying to emphasize to Merlin the finality of the situation. "There is a price to create life and you, of all people, know very well what that is."

Gaius felt as though he was relieving a time from years ago when Merlin had been a young boy and had not been aware of the intricacies of the Old Religion. The Merlin who regarded him now, however, was a fully-grown man. A powerful magician. He had long ago surpassed Gaius and against his original misgivings, he assured himself that _Merlin_ was the greatest warlock he had ever seen. If anyone could achieve the impossible, it was Merlin.

As if reading his mind, Merlin reassured Gaius with as much certainty as he could muster. "Don't worry, Gaius. I know what I am doing."

"Come back safely," Gaius said as his wizened face tried to give a small smile.

Merlin said nothing, but squeezed his mentor's hand tightly and not quite making eye contact, he abruptly let go and left the room.

* * *

The sunlight was beginning to fade as dusk approached, but still, here and there through the sheltered foliage, bright rays would trickle through. The party of four had traveled many miles on horseback, delving deeper and deeper into the woods. The cool evening air made it easier for their horses to continue without rest, and though they had made good time, Merlin still goaded his horse to gallop faster, knowing that every moment now was precious. He was guiding the party, the only one who had any idea where they were going. He was difficult to follow; riding quite erratically, taking abrupt turns, and many a time, Arthur nearly fell off his horse trying to keep up, as Gwen brought up the rear.

Finally, just when Gwen felt so tired she was almost about to faint and as she was about to call out to Merlin and Arthur for them to ride on without her, Merlin drew to a halt and leapt off his horse.

They had reached an extremely secluded group of trees in the forest. Somehow, all three of the travelers felt their senses heighten in this quiet, but lush, thriving, _alive_ area of the woods. Their ears hummed with the buzzing of the bees, chirping of the birds and grasshoppers alike; their noses filled with the heady scent of herbs and flowers; their eyes adjusted to the varying shapes of light and shadow flitting across the floor. Arthur and Gwen understood inherently that there must have been strong magic indeed had been guiding Merlin to this place all along as even _they_ could feel a pulse in the atmosphere.

Merlin ran back towards Arthur's horse, cloak billowing around him, and grabbed the reigns to hold Torrento steady so that Arthur could lift Morgana's body and dismount at the same time. "There is no time to waste," Merlin said urgently. "Her soul will soon be leaving the world between worlds and will become lost to us."

Arthur nodded as he nimbly dismounted his horse and lifted Morgana higher into his arms again, prepared to follow Merlin.

Merlin had a different plan, however. Knowing he would be asking a lot of Arthur…the new King was a man of action as he well knew, and asking him to stay behind…it would be difficult, but it was necessary, Merlin told himself. They had journeyed with him this far…and that had been a great comfort to the warlock though he did not think Arthur and Gwen had any idea of how much their support meant to him.

Merlin came close and shook his head, deciding to put it as simply as possible. "No, Arthur. I have let you come this far, but from now on, only Morgana and I can take this journey."

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed in displeasure with Merlin's statement as Gwen drew close next to them on her steed.

"Why?" Gwen protested as she too descended from her horse. Her hair was windswept and she looked exhausted, but her expression was determined.

Merlin knew he had to get them to understand quickly, so that they would not delay him with further argument. _Even if I cannot tell them the whole truth…_Merlin thought inwardly.

"I am taking her to a sacred place, one of the birthplaces of magic in our land…and you _must _promise me that you will not follow me. It is integral to the enchantment I am about to perform." Merlin recalled his previous experience with Nimueh and his power over life and death. _Everything has a price. _He could not risk tempting the powers that be with Arthur and Gwen's lives…not to mention the precious life of their unborn child; it was as simple as that...this was where their paths would diverge and Merlin was certain that there was no other way.

Arthur looked unsure and began to open his mouth to protest, "No…"

Merlin ran his hand through his hair in frustration, but luckily Gwen came to the rescue, this time choosing not to oppose him. She had been regarding Merlin's face closely and something in his expression told her that he was determined not to let them follow him…and to argue further was only wasting more time and time was what Morgana did not have. Gwen was not a woman who understood very much about the way the Old Religion worked, but she had absolute confidence in the warlock. _Merlin_ had said that Morgana's soul would soon be passing into another realm and from there, it could not be brought back. Gwen could not live her life with the knowledge that her stubbornness had been the reason why Morgana had not been saved. She placed her calming hand on Arthur's shoulder. "If Merlin insists we shouldn't…then I trust him." She spoke directly to her husband, her eyes piercing his, communicating without words her unwavering belief in their friend. And like magic, Arthur slowly nodded at Merlin, though he still held Morgana tight in his arms.

"Thank you…my dear friend," Merlin said gratefully, turning to face Gwen. He took a few steps towards her, and for a moment even forgot that Arthur was there. Merlin gazed upon her tired, worn face, her tangled curls, Morgana's blood mixed with dirt and stains on her apron, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing strong arms and tough calloused palms…and her beautiful, sad brown eyes. His first friend in Camelot; his always trusting, dependable companion…Unable to express what he wanted to in words, his gratitude and his apologies, he took her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead, hoping with all his might that her life forward would be full of happiness in a way that it hadn't always been. He then wrapped his arms around her, holding her warm, solid form close to him. Looking down between them, he saw the small swelling of life in her stomach protruding out slightly. Reminded again of the future she held in her womb, quickly, he stooped and placed a kiss on the roundness of her belly, murmuring a few words of blessing and prayer for a long, healthy life in the Old Religion. Gwen couldn't help but smile gratefully, though the dried tears on her face made it feel like more effort than usual to change her expression.

Before Merlin lost control of his emotions, he rose abruptly and approached Arthur, who was regarding him with the utmost suspicion. Arthur knew Merlin to be an affectionate man, especially where Gwen was concerned, but to be so outwardly expressive?

Something was different…something had changed…

Not sure exactly what to say, or do, Merlin held out his arms. "Arthur…please…give her to me," he said. He looked around at the lengthening shadows on the bed of grass, and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

Time…they spent an eternity chasing it, looking for more…only to end up where they started; forever was always outside their grasp.

Reluctantly, Arthur carefully placed Morgana in Merlin's arms, but instead of watching his foster sister, he continued to look at Merlin as though he had sprouted another head. Though he could not explain aloud, Arthur had deep reservations…Morgana was safely in Merlin's arms, her dark head resting on against his pale neck, but Arthur continued to hold on to her hand, not wanting to let go of her…or Merlin.

"Trust me," said Merlin, his voice steady, not carrying the waves of sadness crashing under the surface. It was harder than he had even imagined, but the moment had arrived.

Arthur shook himself out of his stupor and let go of Morgana's hand. "Of course, Merlin," He clapped Merlin on the shoulder. It was foolish to have such misgivings…after all, Merlin knew what he was doing. "We will be waiting for you right here…just shout if you need us." Arthur's need to maintain normalcy became almost obsessive.

Merlin's throat tightened and he could not manage any words so he simply nodded.

He stood where he was, facing both of them, his feet somehow rooted to the spot. He continued to look upon his closest friends, as Gwen lifted Arthur's arm, so she could slip underneath and hold her husband tight. They formed a perfect picture of togetherness, and Merlin couldn't help but feel pride at how circumstance had brought them together.

For a moment, the loneliness seemed to overwhelm him, and Merlin held Morgana's body closer to his, trying to take comfort from the familiar feel of her skin, but the corresponding coldness chilled his hands and silently reminded him of his purpose. Merlin shifted her weight on his arms, and walked away from Arthur and Gwen slowly, his feet knowing the despondency of their master.

He had reached the far edge of the small clearing when Arthur called out.

"Merlin."

Merlin turned and looked at the King. _His_ King.

"Thank you," he said.

* * *

Moments, or hours later, the young warlock emerged from the thicket. The rays of the setting sun hit him suddenly, almost blinding him. As he stumbled forwards, his eyes adjusting to the light, Merlin looked out upon the breathtaking scene before him.

He had been to the lake many times before – on several different occasions. But never had it been as beautiful as it was now. The deep still waters went out into the horizon, upon which the golden, red, yellow dancing sun was falling. The sky's hues of pink and orange were reflected in the water before him. And on either side, the banks of green grass seemed to stretch on forever.

Avalon. The gateway to the land of eternal life, of beauty, of bliss and joy evermore. He knew now why it was called so.

Stepping forward with short, but decisive strides, he finally reached the lakeshore. Slowly and carefully, he lowered both himself and Morgana to the ground, laying her long, graceful figure over his lap, her head cradled in his elbow.

The scene on the lakeshore was heartbreaking and uplifting all at once. A raven-haired beauty, blood red as a ruby her only ornament, spilled over her white tunic. And the sensitive, worn, marble-faced youth, nay, man holding her as though she was all the more precious in death.

Merlin could not believe how somehow, all their paths, winding and winding had led to this moment. Merlin had never felt more certain than he did in that second, taking in her porcelain face, smudged with dirt, that he was the past and he held the future in his arms…His mind wandered yet again that fateful day, as he pressed his lips against her cool forehead.

He thought of Kilgharrah, the Great Dragon…had he known all along that Merlin's destiny would come to this? He had advised Merlin of his fate, and the inevitable partnership with Arthur, the reason for his gifts; however had not given Merlin any expiry date. Instead he had expired himself, before Merlin could ask him…what about after? What then? Oh the relief to set down the burden he had carried for so long…

He thought of Hunith and of Balinor. He had lost them as well, and the wounds were still raw. They had throughout their lives, lived for others. Could he not pay them tribute and _give_ his life for others? Would they accept his humble offering? Would he be able to join them?

He thought of the brother he had bid farewell to only a few hours previously. He couldn't help but think…even though they could not be more different, had their roles been reversed, he could imagine Mordred doing the same thing he was about to do for Morgana…perhaps for different reasons, but nevertheless, they were united in this one matter.

The chirping of grasshoppers and the sun slipping further down the sky reminded him of the fleeting chance he had. But this was neither something Gaius had taught him, nor something that he could have read in his books…for where did they teach the art of how to live out your final moments upon this earth?

It was not that he was afraid. Fear had passed him by long ago. Nor was he grieved for himself…he was sad for his friends, knew painstakingly that they would be devastated at his death. But it was necessary, necessary for the old to pass onwards, and the new to take form in order that a new age for Camelot could begin.

And she would be the herald for that new age. His lips broke into a small smile as he imagined what her reaction would be, if she had known ahead of time what his plan was. She would have raged at him, thought herself unworthy. But he knew deep inside, as he also just as surely knew she did, that she had never been given the chance to live out her true potential. First limited by her ignorance of her gifts, by the abandonment of her mother, then by her fear of Uther, then by the deception of Morgause, and finally by the captivity of Mordred. She, more than anyone, deserved the chance to start anew, with hope and a refreshing perspective. She would be able to guide Arthur, and stand up to him, and hopefully in time mend their relationship. Merlin could not let her go without giving her the opportunity to redeem herself in Arthur's eyes, though her jumping in front of Mordred's sword to protect her beloved foster brother had probably done more than words could say for Arthur. Still, where Merlin was tired and bound to the earth by the nature of his practical and methodical being, Morgana could soar with her wings, taking the sky as her limit. All he really needed to know he had read from her soul in their night together, and he knew that she would die before letting any harm come to Arthur. He could trust no one else so completely, regardless of what had transpired between them.

All of a sudden, an overwhelming feeling of peace seemed to flow into his body, and he knew that it was time.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin pulled out the crystal of Neathid from his robes. The sunlight seemed to catch it at just the right angle, and the crystal gleamed with purpose and the conviction he felt inside. He began to chant softly in the language of the Old Religion, holding it above Morgana. He focused all is might on the power he knew he had imbibed from Nimueh, her mother…the power of life and death.

His words produced a wondrous effect - the light emerging from the crystal narrowed into a thin but powerful beam that connected the crystal directly to Morgana's heart. His goal was to use the crystal to provide the energy to perform the most complex spell known to the sorcerers on earth. While he was aware he could not recall her from death, he knew he could indeed bring her back from the land between worlds, where he was sure her soul would be lingering, bittersweet and searching for finality. But perhaps the spell was still not complete, nor strong enough, for she did not wake though the crystal was providing all the energy it could. Merlin's eyes roamed her still figure, searching for a movement, a breath, a flicker of her eyelids…anything that could tell him that her soul was nearby. There was nothing, however, and Merlin realized with a sudden understanding that the spell was incomplete.

_A life for a life…_

One piece was still missing. And only he could complete it.

Merlin took a deep breath, and realized he actually preferred it this way – forcing his participation in the magic ensured that he was willing and he could not help but smile as he thought inwardly, all things considered, he could not have chosen a better way to go…

Taking one last look at the beautiful, _alive_, world around him, he closed his eyes and lowered his head. His lips met hers with a wonderful spark that seemed to shoot through him right to his fingertips, as he felt the crystal's power connecting their souls. He kissed her harder, with fervor and certainty, trying to feed his life into hers through the passion of his kiss. But perhaps it did not work that way, for there was still no response. Her lips felt cold, numb, and could not have been more different than the night before.

He did not want to give up, but his heart was sinking…it couldn't be too late! Releasing her for a second, he kept his eyes closed but pressed his forehead to hers. "Please," he murmured aloud, "Please, Morgana…" He did not know if he was imagining it, but slowly, her head was beginning to feel heavier in his arms.

Suddenly, he felt a flicker of movement across his nose as long eyelashes brushed against his skin. _Could it be…? _Merlin refused to open his eyes, knowing that if he did, he might weaken in his resolve and the result would be two souls lost, instead of one…

Trying once again, still holding the crystal with one hand, Merlin brought his lips down to meet hers. And this time…he was no longer kissing a marble statue. Her lips were warm, her mouth welcoming, and molding to fit his pressure. Relief flooded his body, as he tasted her familiar sweet scent on his tongue.

And Merlin knew then, if Death was Morgana, then he welcomed her with all his heart.

* * *

One moment she was floating. Floating above the Earth and the tiny insignificance of it all. It was as though upon losing her senses, she had suddenly become hyper-aware, tasting everything, hearing everything, seeing everything, smelling everything; feeling everything…she was one with all creation. She was the air that blew around the battlefield of Camlann, she was the beating hearts of the wounded, she was the tears on Gwen's face, she was the strength in Arthur's arms as he had carried her to the forest; she was Merlin…

Years later, when she would go on to describe it – that state of pure non-existence, she would never be able to fully do it justice. After all, losing one's identity is no meager thing. All she knew was that nothing seemed to matter – nothing except that indescribable loss…

And the very next moment she was drowning. Drowning with every fibre of her being. Oh the pain…she wanted to scream but could not open her mouth; she wanted to swim but could not move her legs; she wanted to breathe…And somehow, something or someone answered her desperate plea. She felt herself being contained, from that expansive, omnipresent, omniscient energy, into her old body. Suddenly she could only hear with Morgana's ears, and a strange but stirring chanting filled them. Her eyelids fluttered, as she strained to open her eyes, to discover who had awakened her from her dream. But there was no need, for almost immediately, her lips regained feeling and she knew it was him. She had known all along…but not fully realized it, not being in her own form. And he was kissing her like he never had before. Yesterday – it seemed so far away in her mind – it had been about reaffirmation, about giving and receiving. But today…today it was life, and death and everything in between. All she knew was that nothing seemed to matter – nothing except that inexplicable gain…

Her heart suddenly sprang back to life, and began to beat powerfully, bringing with it a return of sensation. Morgana could finally feel her fingers again, and her toes, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, and a solid, warm arm beneath her neck…she wiggled her toes carefully, testing the waters to see what she could do. The pain in her chest that had been present at her death had completely vanished. It was as though a cool, calming balm had been applied to her wound and it had completely disappeared. She moved her hands to where she had been stabbed, and there was nothing there. A smile appeared on her lips against her saviour's, for all the while they had not broken apart.

But suddenly she felt his lips leaving her, and she followed blindly, wondering why the man had been taken from her. And then there was a thud, which finally jolted Morgana's eyes open.

She lifted her head slowly, followed by her shoulders, and then clutching her stomach, as she was still weak, she sat up fully. Not yet fully aware, she looked around in wonder, taking in the sights and sounds like a newborn babe. She gasped at the setting sun and its brilliant colours, breathed in the scents of lilies along the banks, and buried her hands into the grass, taking immense pleasure in the feeling of just being _alive_.

But then she realized with all of this feeling, that there was also a feeling underneath her of a body…a body that was still. No sooner had her heart just started beating, when it abruptly stopped in fear.

For she still lay draped over Merlin, his legs under hers; and when she turned and saw him lying there, perfectly immobile and quiet, taking shallow breaths and just watching her rediscover her life, she instantaneously recalled everything she had seen and heard as she was floating above and she whimpered, letting out a small cry.

"No!" It was not loud, but the pain and sorrow in her voice made Merlin's eyes become wet. She had not yet regained function of her voice, and it was low, hoarse, and not her own. But he was happy to hear it. Though a part of him had hoped that he would have been able to leave his body without her being awake for it, another part, a more selfish part, was pleased to be able to see her lovely face alight with life one last time.

He could barely lift his arm now, but he managed to gesture her closer. "Come…here…Morgana". The effort of just opening his mouth to get the words out was overwhelming.

Morgana continually shook her head, in shock and incredulity at what he had done. She did not move one inch, frozen in her place. It was not until she saw Merlin collapse back down after the effort of lifting his head to look at her that she regained control of her limbs. Slowly she transferred her weight to her legs, and as she was still weak, she crawled towards his head, untangling her legs from his, until she could take his head into her lap, as he had done for her.

"Merlin!" She was still shaking her head in disbelief, tears streaming down her face. "Merlin – how could you! What have you done? Take it back, take it back!" She gripped his face tightly between her hands, and kissed him hard, hoping against hope that the spell was reversible, that her lips meeting his again would feed her newfound life back into his body.

But Merlin knew, even if Morgana did not, that it was too late. He did not turn from her kiss, accepted her mouth willingly, but managed just enough energy to bring his hand to her face. She broke off from him as he did so, allowing him to slide his right hand up first to wipe her tears, and then down to reach her neck, where the chain bearing the druid symbol lay. As she watched, feeling utterly helpless and also curious for what he would say in response, he held the chain gently between his fingers and pulled it forward so that the silver symbol became visible.

"Morgana – remember this? I made a promise to you, yesterday." The words came out with short gasps in between, his voice low but still determined. "I gave you…the symbol for life…and I promised you that…that you had the whole…rest of your life ahead of you. Didn't I?"

At this Morgana turned her head away from him ruefully, the tears returning to her face. "That was not your promise to give, Merlin!" She realized just how strong her voice had become as anger was coming through. Immediately, feeling remorse at the vehemence and bitterness in her words when he had done so much for her, she turned back and kissed his cheek, placed her cheek on his to emphasize her next words, spoken softly. "It was not your choice to make, _my Lord Sorcerer_," she said, using his title to try to remind him of how his action would affect the whole of Camelot, "I gave my life, willingly for Arthur…why would you do this? Save me – and abandon Arthur? Just when he needs you most?"

Her words struck a chord as he winced slightly, his hand clutching his robes as he drew in short, painful breaths. "I haven't…abandoned him, Morgana…I have left him in your very…capable hands". She lifted her head from his cheek to look at him in astonishment. "Yes…you heard correctly. I have done my part, Morgana…Arthur is King…And he will be a great one…with you at his side…My role has been…fulfilled…and I give my life, knowing that…I am old…I have lived…I am tired, my dear, dear friend…I want you to know…you are…I…This time…I choose you" Though the scene before him was becoming more blurry by the second, his eyes found hers and he tried to relay to her what he could not say in words. For words could not do it justice. Would never do justice to how he felt for her. He would not insult their relationship by trying to define it in strict terms.

He simply wanted her to know that he had chosen her out of love, not guilt. Once before, he had condemned her…chosen Camelot and Arthur over her life and the guilt he had felt at his actions had haunted him at every step. He wanted to know that this time it was different, and even though, he would never be able to take back his mistake and the harm he had caused her…he could give her this opportunity, this new life. He wished she would know that his decision today was not a difficult one like the one he had made years ago. Most of all, he wanted her to know much faith he had in _her_.

Instead, he just looked at her, too weary to speak. His eyes were so full of love, admiration, and hope – all directed towards her – that Morgana thought she would stop breathing. His only regret was that he had not given free rein to his eyes, to look at her like that, every day since the day he had first seen her…

Morgana, however, though touched, was far from understanding Merlin's budding sentimentality in his final moments. Her heart, her brain refused to acknowledge what was fast becoming reality. "I am nothing, Merlin! Nothing without you…_You_ are the one who is needed here most, not me! Arthur, the Kingdom, need your wisdom! I need your wisdom! I brought about this mess…how will I ever go about cleaning it up?" Her words came out desperately, feeling as though he had given her no choice in this matter, and had passed on his immense burden without forethought. For how could she refuse as he lay there in her arms, dying, while she breathed freely the air that should have been his? "I am empty, Merlin…I have nothing to offer! Do you not see? Put an end to this madness…please, I beg of you!"

Merlin knew that his time was limited. Already he could see the air shifting above him, opening up, making room to swallow his soul. He _had _to get her to understand. With immeasurable effort, he lifted his left hand, the one that still held the crystal in it, and slowly moved it towards her.

Morgana shook her head, and tilted backwards, as far as she could without falling over. "No! No – I don't want that."

Ignoring her protests, with a shaking hand, Merlin finally placed the crystal on her heart. She immediately stopped writhing away, feeling the heaviness of the rock against her chest. "I have one last task…to perform…before I leave…just as this crystal has one final deed left, before you should destroy it." He garnered enough strength to whisper the spell under his breath. And suddenly, warmth and light flooded from the crystal into her heart, spreading through every muscle, every vein…

She gasped. The magic…_her_ magic had returned to her…and finally she could _See._

Desperately gazing into his eyes, she saw what he wanted her to; the coronation of the King…the birth of the princess…the Round table…the union of Albion…and amidst it, overseeing it all was a hand. And she recognized it as her own.

Her eyes widened…how could it be? She searched her mind again, looking to see if Merlin was there, if she could See him in the future. _Emrys…_she could hear his true name echoing throughout her mind, throughout all of history. And he _was_ there, not in physical form, but in Excalibur gleaming in Arthur's hands, in Gwen's quiet, soothing voice, in the Round table itself, in the Knights' twinkling eyes, and in Morgana's heart…always.

And she understood. It did not take away the pain, the sorrow, the fear and doubt…but she accepted that his destiny had led him here to the end, and hers was yet to come. Oh – but that did not make it any easier.

The dusk air had started to chill around them, and Merlin shivered, though clad in his cloak. The cool air had brought with it a fresh breeze, and he grasped the opportunity to breathe deeply in for the last few times. Dropping the crystal into her lap, he released his head, allowing it to drop back. "Destroy the crystal, Morgana…it has caused enough damage…"

The end was nigh.

"Merlin…" Morgana's voice had softened, her tears ever-flowing. She lifted his head closer in her arms, as her other hand soothed his forehead. She threaded her hand through his dark locks, and begged him with her eyes. "Please…please don't leave me…" Though she knew it to be futile, her heart would not let her give him up. She bent her head to kiss him once more, this time not expecting her life to return to him, but to reassure him, reassure herself that she could do this. That she could live.

He answered her query with a soft returning pressure, his lips closing around her lower lip, telling her she could indeed do anything. Finally, he released her lips, and his head fell back.

"Let me go, Morgana…" His eyes had closed but he squeezed her hand with all of his remaining strength.

Morgana said nothing in response but cradled his head closer to her neck, her chin resting on the top of his head. Her face was crestfallen, and she pressed her mouth against his hair.

Drawing one last, shaky breath, Merlin spoke, his voice soothing and prophetic. "May Albion live on forever…_Feccan __hām__, Ides of Mere. Feccan Avalon, Freya…"_ The words reverberated in Morgana's mind. _Take me home, Lady of the Lake…take me to Avalon, Freya._

And with that, the last Dragonlord, the great sorcerer Merlin, the hero of legends and the creator of myths became still.

Morgana screamed.

* * *

In the middle of the deep, dark thicket, two figures that had been holding each other so tight, not wanting to let go after all that had happened, broke apart with a jump.

"That was Morgana!" Gwen was sure of it. She would have recognized the sound of her former mistress's voice anywhere. "After all that has happened, she is alive!" Her heart could scarcely believe…she looked at her husband, her eyes shining with stars and Arthur couldn't help but hope that Gwen was correct in her assumption. "We will return home with Morgana!"

But there was a deep foreboding in Arthur's heart, and it would not leave…

"We should go to her – make sure everything is alright. Make sure Merlin is…" Arthur could not believe that he was even considering a possibility that Merlin was not…alright…but somehow, the scream had done nothing to ease the painful thudding of his heart that had begun since the battle had ended. He pushed his uneasiness out of his mind, trying to draw comfort from Gwen's shining eyes.

Gwen nodded in response to her husband's words, and took his hand in hers, trying to comfort her husband with a supportive smile, though she was not exactly sure what she was reassuring him about.

They began to move slowly towards the direction where Merlin had disappeared, when suddenly Gwen stopped. "Arthur! Merlin told us not to move…" Though she was torn, inside, she knew that Merlin would not have warned them without reason. But, her heart was racing now…and she needed to know if it was really Morgana…yet, Merlin's words rang in her head.

Arthur also hesitated for a brief moment. But then there was another shout, this time sounding more pained, than of shock, like the previous one.

That was all it took. Arthur grabbed Gwen's hand tightly and they ran together.

They leaped over fallen logs, their fear giving flight to their feet. They brushed past bushes and ignored the curious squirrels that had emerged to see what the ruckus was about in their usually quiet part of the woods.

Finally, after running for a few minutes, panting and with stitches in their sides they emerged from the forest to a scene that would ever be etched in their memories.

They felt such a conflicting series of emotions that for a moment both stood paralyzed.

Their eyes first fell upon Morgana, a sitting upright Morgana, and their hearts leapt for joy, for the last they had seen her they had thought she would never move again. Surely, it was a miracle! Not realizing that behind every miraculous deed was an enormous sacrifice.

It was then that they realized Morgana was sobbing hysterically, her shoulders slumped, holding a figure blocked from their view in her arms. And suddenly their emotions switched from joy into fear…

And then her pleading and desperate voice confirmed their worst fear. "No…Merlin please…please come back to me…" Their hearts sank, the ground slipping beneath their feet.

Numbness overcame the royal couple. How…had _this_ happened?

Whereas Arthur stood still, his mind unable to process this sadness and shock disabling his movement, Gwen suddenly burst into tears and ran forward.

Her face had barely been without wetness for half of an hour, and now this? Her friend, her dearest Merlin…gone? _Dead?_ Gwen collapsed beside Morgana, and threw one arm around her lady's shoulders, and the other around Merlin's head. Together the two usually brave and steadfast women mourned their friend, sobbing uncontrollably.

Gwen did not know what to say, her mind frozen with shock. How could she say anything to Morgana? Pure and virtuous Gwen felt guilt wash over her own body. After all, it was _she_ that had asked Merlin to do something…to do _anything_ to save Morgana. But she never could have dreamed that Merlin would have given his life for hers…Gwen would have _never_ asked for this.

Merlin, who had never let her down, had delivered on his promise again and he brought back Morgana…but in doing so, he had left them all. _Why? _Had they all not suffered enough? Was there something they could have done differently to prevent this?

Absently, Gwen stroked Morgana's hair soothingly, shushing her. Almost out of habit, she comforted her friend. It was not Morgana's fault…none of them would have known what Merlin would do…

Except Arthur had been deeply disturbed when Merlin had disappeared into the woods with Morgana's body…had her husband had an inkling of things to come? She looked back at Arthur with concern because she knew that the sorrow and emptiness he was feeling would be a thousand-fold more than what she was going through. Merlin was Arthur's confidant, friend and brother…they had been inseparable for so long. Even with her grief so raw, Gwen knew that her husband would never be the same again. This was one loss too many…

Morgana, moving her head to rest on Gwen's shoulder, cried out bitterly, "Oh Gwen…he gave his life for _me._ How can I bear it?"

Arthur showed no indication that he had heard what Morgana had said. His face was ashen, his eyes fixed straight ahead. There were no tears on his face, but Gwen knew from the set of his jaw, and the death-white grip of his hand on Excalibur that he was absolutely weeping inside, unable to acknowledge his feelings outwardly.

It took all of Arthur's courage just to stand there, continuing to breathe, knowing his dearest and most beloved friend…his everything…was gone. In the blink of an eye! And he had never said…never said…goodbye…All of those thoughts were swimming in Arthur's mind but he could not, would not, open his mouth to shout…to grieve…for he was the King. And Kings did not…But then that reminded who had made him King…and the pain came rushing back. Even the title of King meant _nothing_ to him now…if he was unable to share this with Merlin.

The lake seemed to sense the desolation of the three souls on its shore, and almost out of pity, to put them out of their misery for a brief time at least, the water began to move. Ripples of waves formed ever-widening circles, and the three on-lookers looked out into the dark waters in shock, their thoughts paused for a brief second. The last rays of the sun illuminated the water as they watched, in wonder and awe, as a graceful figure rose from the centre of the lake. Slowly, bit by bit, a woman made completely of water became visible, clad in heavy flowing robes, her face the deep blue azure of wisdom, her arms slender and held outwards towards the figures.

She said nothing, only looked at them. Her face should have been expressionless; after all, her body was only made of mist and shimmering waves, but there was some hope in her eyes, though the rest of her body language conveyed her sorrow at their loss.

Gwen and Morgana did not know what to make of this unusual figure. Their tears had stopped but both unconsciously bent over Merlin, shielding him protectively from the unknown apparition.

Somehow, however, Arthur knew what the lady was asking for with her outstretched arms and though he would never be able to explain this to the others in the years to come, he knew he had to do this favour for his friend, no matter how painful it was for him. For there was something in the lady's eyes that told Arthur that she would be taking his dear friend onwards…to a place where the wise warlock could finally be at peace, unburdened by the weight of the world. Merlin had never asked Arthur for anything his entire life, and Arthur knew that Merlin would have wanted this one thing – again, Arthur had no idea how he knew his friend's wishes – he would fulfill this last request, even if it killed him…

Mechanically, gathering strength from a place inside him he did not know previously existed, Arthur walked to the girls. In shock, Gwen and Morgana moved back as he kneeled beside them, and peeling Merlin's lifeless body away from them, he lifted his former manservant into his arms.

The Queen and First Lady watched speechlessly as the King carried the heaviest burden he had ever had to carry – the dead body of his friend – to the edge of the lake.

He waded in, step by step, his eyebrows knit in determination. It was difficult to maintain his balance as the depth of the water grew deeper and waves crashed around his knees, but somehow he managed. Finally, when he reached the figure, which was twice his height, he looked upon her, knowing at last that she was familiar, and he would not be turning his friend over to a stranger.

Somehow that made it easier, as Arthur carefully placed Merlin's body into the Lady of the Lake's waiting arms. And quickly, before Arthur could regret his action, Freya began to sink into the lake carrying Merlin, and with her the sun slipped beyond the horizon.

Arthur was left standing knee-deep, alone in the lake and in the world, as the darkness of night enveloped the scene. He had lost his greatest ally, just as Avalon had claimed a noble soul.

Full of sadness and despair, the young King glanced into the water where the body of Merlin had disappeared. Beneath the water, there was nothing out of the ordinary…nothing to suggest that this was the gateway to an eternal land. However, Arthur, born of magic, had more of a heightened awareness than most, and he could feel a strong presence envelop him. It was familiar…and suddenly he straightened with shock. He could discern words…but he did not know where they were coming from. Perhaps they were coming from the lake, or maybe from within his own mind. Looking around, he saw nothing, but there were the words, as clear as could be…the final words that Merlin would ever speak to him and the words by which Arthur would live out the rest of his days.

"Never give up, Arthur! For the sun lies behind the clouds…day lies beyond the night. Lead your people on! The art of being kind…that is all this sad world needs."


	27. Epilogue

**So many paths that wind and wind...**

_Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters belong to the BBC._

* * *

**Epilogue**

* * *

"For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see,

Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be."

The full moon was reflected in the black waters of the lake, a shimmering, unmarred white orb.

During the daytime, while the sun blazed overhead, the lake of Avalon seemed to beckon to all; its surroundings too perfect, the water too calm…the white shore too enticing. But now, at night, it was a different story. Under the cover of darkness, the lake abandoned all pretense of hiding its true character. It was alive with a dark beauty as the moon's reflection in the rippling water danced with the waves.

A slight breeze ruffled the reeds in the water and their movement created even more disturbance over the glassy surface.

Far in the distance, the tall mountain peaks guarded the sanctity of the lake, while on the opposite side, the thick, dense forest was silent. The creatures of the wild, inhabitants of the forest, never wandered too close. They were wary of this place and its mysterious energy.

And perhaps their cautiousness was warranted…after all, it was at this bewitching hour that messengers from the other world dared to venture into this realm. It was strange, however, that amongst the inane chattering of the faeries, tonight two ethereal voices could be distinguished.

While for most souls Avalon was but a glimpse into the eternal realm before returning to the ever-spinning cycle of life and death, for others, it was the final stop in the voyage of their spirits. The souls that were able to escape the ever-turning wheel of birth and death passed through Avalon. Here, they had a choice of either moving on to a state of eternal rest or they could decide to remain, in the land between worlds. Most eventually did choose to go on, but occasionally, once in a while, there was a soul who would choose to wait…for there was something or _someone _still in the material world that he would be incomplete without.

One such waiting passenger spoke to the woman who was his guide and gatekeeper; she was his only light and long lost love, and it was in this in-between world that he had at long last been reunited with her…

"_Do you think it possible, Lady of the Lake?"_

"_I think that you and so many have given their lives for this vision to become a reality. Your dreams have no choice but to materialize." _

"_And do you think that the architects of this dream will ever unite again?" _

"_Merlin, friends cannot be parted even by death. You are the first to make this journey and you have left the others far behind. And now, all that remains is for you to wait…"_

* * *

"In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast;

In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest."

In the wake of the culmination of the war, the whole kingdom had been thrown into a mixture of jubilation and devastation. The victory at Camlann had transformed the dim hope with which they had begun their trial of war into a blazing flame of triumph. Their dream, the new Camelot for which they all had made sacrifices, would be safe in the hands of the King whom they now trusted beyond anyone. And the celebratory air would not leave their minds. Regardless of what they had been before the war: farmer, teacher, cobbler, magician, healer, nobleman or vassal, they could now start afresh – with a clean slate.

But it was not all joy and delight. Most had directly or indirectly lost close friends, and family. Or were now missing a limb, or an eye, or both – or else too ill with fever to even contemplate returning to work. And what good was a blacksmith without his right arm? Still others had returned to ravaged homes and maggoty crops that had been abandoned once the recruiting for the Great War began.

In one way or another, all had been affected.

Those closest to the King had faced more sorrow than joy. For not only were they affected by the same grief and despair faced by their subjects in their daily trials, but also they carried a far greater weight upon their shoulders. Beyond any other grief, what was weighing on their minds was the loss of their dearest friend. Merlin had been their inspiration and losing him had felt like losing the log that had been keeping them afloat in these stormy seas…and now, they were drowning…

Each member of the royal household questioned himself or herself, wondering if the outcome would have been different if _they_ had acted differently. And each expressed their grief in different ways…

Gaius continued with his healing of the injured, imagining that each wound he sewed up was Merlin's and each fever that he tended for was Merlin's…trying to do for others what he would now no longer be able to do for Merlin. His apprentice's death had caused Gaius to age in a way that now his inner spirit matched his weary, old exterior. His will for living had diminished to the point where he now only wished to see the transition of the kingdom safely into Arthur's hands and then take his final journey, to join his kin in the other world.

The matters of the court were left to the one person who had maintained some sense of practicality in spite of all that had taken place. Even though Gwen was internally worn out and mourning for everyone's losses and her own, she knew that more important than being a Queen in name was to ensure that her people did not feel abandoned at this crucial juncture. Tirelessly, with the help of the knights and her old maidservant friends, as well as newfound villagers, she had made sure that supplies could be rationed while farmers could re-sow their crops. Camelot had gained a new influx of citizens – magicians, villagers from near and far, which was wonderful for the city's progress, but also placed an extra burden on their limited city borders. She was consulted in all land disputes, which she decided as fairly as she could, considering that there was high demand and short supply. In addition, she had recruited a group of volunteers to go into the countryside to help small towns and villages rebuild the damage that had been sustained under Morgause's rule. She had also had foresight that their enemies may attack when the kingdom was struggling to get to its feet, so she had sent Sir Lancelot with troops to patrol the borders. The truth was that she found it easier to forget her own troubles in looking after the others. At times, when she lay awake at night, she was tormented by the memories of their last hours with Merlin. She had been so distraught by Morgana's lifeless state that she had, at that time, been willing to do almost anythingto have her back…_almost _anything…but not this…_never_ this. Sometimes she felt angry at Merlin…he had taken the choice out of all their hands, he had made a decision that had affected them so profoundly, and he had moved on…and now, it was the rest of them that had to live the remainder of their lives with Merlin's choice. Whenever Gwen felt negativity threatening to overwhelm her, she tried to remember simpler times…when they had been younger, more carefree…and somehow that helped her get through the day.

Arthur, meanwhile, had shut himself in his room and had refused to see anyone for three days. It was not that he was willfully abandoning his people – he knew their vulnerability and need for leadership at this time. However, he was also aware that with his brain and heart completely shell-shocked by the loss of his most trusted friend, he would be of no use to anyone in the outside world. And so he trusted his duties to the capable hands of Gwen, while for those three days he devoted to mourning his friend by pacing his chambers, and writing letters to Merlin that he knew would never reach him. Following this period of self-contained misery, he emerged only to walk aimlessly about in the city, stopping here and there, to help his subjects with their various tasks of rebuilding. Though he was able to somehow throw himself into physical labour without much difficulty, he could not yet take on the more cerebral task of leading his small nation forwards. He was still numb with the pain of his loss and the more he ventured out his chambers, the more he realized that Merlin would not appear. In response he worked even harder, putting long hours into building homes for the new arrivals into the city, or cleaning the rubble from the landing of the dragon Mordred in the courtyard, or carrying spare royal furniture to various homes, that Gwen had determined were no longer needed by the castle.

It was in the midst of one of these tasks that the last of Merlin's closest friends, Morgana, found him one afternoon. The presumed King of Camelot was in the castle courtyard, toiling under the hot sun, wiping the sweat from his brow as he chopped wood for timber.

Morgana had disappeared as soon as they had returned to Camelot after Merlin's demise. One moment they had all been walking slowly together to the sleeping quarters of the castle, and the next moment the party of three had become a party of two. Where she had gone, no one knew, but Arthur and Guinevere had been so occupied that neither of them had a chance to even contemplate sending a search party for her, though sometimes both of them would abruptly look up from their respective work, as if they had seen a dark-haired fairy out of the corner of their eyes.

It was well her return was just as sudden as her disappearance.

Exactly seven days from the end of the battle, Morgana had appeared at the city gates. There were whispers as people caught sight of her and some gasped, rushing to point her out to neighbours and friends. Many of the older residents of Camelot had seen the Lady Morgana many times before, of course, but they had never seen Morgana like this. There was something very different about her…she appeared almost ethereal. Clad in flowing robes of crisp white, her black flowing hair contrasted sharply with her pale skin and ivory gown. Why, to the naked eye, she almost resembled a fairy! It was from that moment on that the name of Morgana le Fay was informally bestowed upon her. It was a title that would be associated with her for generations to come…there was a subtle transformation about her even though she had only been away for a week…

…Time passed differently on the Isle of the Blessed. She had gone there in despair, looking for comfort and a means by which to bring Merlin back. But somehow, amongst the ruins, although the voices of sisters long gone spoke to her with soft reassurances, none offered a remedy or potion to reverse death.

Long hours went by. Morgana kept vigil in the old prayer hall, the walls crumbling around her, and wept. She wept for Merlin, for Mordred, for Morgause, for Uther, for her mother Nimueh. She wept for the losses Camelot had suffered, for the wounds Arthur had borne, for the pain Gwen had felt. Though but a day had passed, Morgana felt as though she had aged many years through the tears she shed.

At last at midnight, when her well of tears had run dry, she suddenly rose. Into her mind, the vision that Merlin had revealed to her through the crystal, the vision of the new Camelot swam into her view. And she realized that what she wept for was long gone…the hurts would fade with time. But if she continued to cry and do nothing, that glorious vision she had seen _too_ would fade – would never exist!

The fear now remained that though this task of guarding the new future had somehow been entrusted to her…how could she have the knowledge, the wisdom, the power to be able to see it through?

Folding her hands and closing her eyes, she bent her head in prayer. Unaffected by nature, she stood as a statue in that open temple, the sky dark above her, winds howling, and clouds swirling. She prayed to the spirits of her sisters for some guidance.

And just when she thought no response would come, the voice of Lady Vivian seemed to shout in her ear. Morgana's knees buckled underneath her and she fell into a trance.

Morgana le Fay awoke the following morning, lying on the grass at the foot of the altar under a fine blue, sunny sky. Her old clothes had disappeared, and in their place she found herself wearing a simple white gown, made of thin cloud-like material, with long, flowing sleeves and in the folds of her skirt, she could just make out the feel of the crystal of Neathid against her legs. Morgana felt around her neck, just to be sure, and the Druid symbol Merlin had given her was still there, as her only ornament. Her messy braid from the night before had been disentangled, and her ebony hair now fell freely, with abandon, in waves over her pale shoulders.

Looking at her reflection in the small pool at her feet, Morgana saw looking back at her the terrible and wonderful beauty of the priestesses of the Old Religion. She understood.

Just as her clothes had been so mysteriously changed, so also Morgana's defeated attitude and confusion of the night before had been stripped from her. She rose to her feet with sudden clarity and vision.

She was by no means happy and her heart was heavy, but purpose had returned to her life…

Far and wide, Morgana journeyed. She visited nearly all parts of the kingdom, and close neighbours besides; from the nobles to the huntsmen, from great sorcerers who had come out of hiding to conjurers, cheap tricksters and those who dealt with black magic. She moved so fast that usually people did not see her, or if they did manage to catch a glimpse of her white dress gliding away, they would think that it was their imagination, or else a creature from the other world – a fairy. The generous fairy was well-liked, however, not like most other creatures of the other world, for wherever she went, she left behind her an inexplicable sense of hope.

She was quick to see and hear all around her, the gifts of her Sight aiding her in her quest. She saw much joy but also deep-seated pain and the prejudice of generations from both sides of magic and non-magic people had not disappeared with Arthur's noble resolution. The kingdom was starting to rebuild, she could see this clearly, but there was also an underlying thread of discord that needed to be addressed…

And so one week later she had come to Arthur's doorstep…armed with her knowledge, but trembling inside. Regardless of her trepidation, she walked purposefully through the winding streets, not stopping to acknowledge the awe, admiration and curiosity of the busy citizens of Camelot, directly to the courtyard to stand in front of her foster brother with dignity.

She waited patiently for Arthur to look up, for she knew that he had realized she was in front of him, but he did not stop chopping. He watched her from beneath his burning lashes, for he, in spite of all that had passed, _had_ been worried for her, and tears always seemed just beneath the surface these days, though he controlled them with great effort. Arthur took in her new appearance and a spark of curiosity did alight within him, for the new Morgana looked formidable and yet more approachable than she ever had before. _Why had she changed her appearance – for what purpose?_

However, he could not look her in the eyes because no matter what he had said to himself, in his darkest moments, he could not put away the thoughts that it was for her that his dearest friend Merlin had died…Arthur had not forgotten that her death in the first place had happened in order to protect himself, and he had to admit that he had felt almost relieved to be able to forgive her wholeheartedly for everything, when she lay dead in his arms. But then she had come back and…suddenly the forgiveness did not come so easily. He felt guilty for blaming her, but a part of him blamed her nonetheless…

Morgana realized after a few minutes of silent chopping that he was not going to acknowledge her verbally, so she decided to speak her piece and leave the rest to his judgment.

"Arthur…I am sorry I left without telling you after…" She swallowed, finding that she could not say Merlin's name. "I am sorry I left at such a crucial time. You and Guinevere…everyone in the kingdom has bonded together to establish a new era. Things are moving, ever forward, but…"

Arthur paused in his chopping, which told her that he was listening, though he still did not look up at her.

"I know it must seem that I abandoned you once again…but that is far from the truth. I decided I could best be of use to you by finding out as much as I could about the true status of your kingdom. Not by reports of spies, or what village headsmen are saying. But I knew you would want to know what was happening in the lives of the common man…particularly one who has _magic_." Morgana raised her head proudly. Now that she had entered into a rhythm of speaking, it became easier. Neither of them had to acknowledge the awkwardness between them if they were able to instead focus on what had to be done. "I went everywhere, used my magic to separate out your peoples' fears, their anxieties in order to understand them."

The King was surprised, and set down his axe. He had known in theory that not all people would be happy with the war won, but he had been so busy contemplating his own sorrow, he had not thought to dwell on that of others. He finally looked at his oldest friend, and for the first time since the end of the war, he opened up his mind, and _listened._

Morgana continued, encouraged by Arthur's attentiveness. "Despite your courage and hard work…there is still more to be done. Gwen has been managing affairs well…very well indeed! But Arthur, do not forget that it was _you_ who drew the sword from the stone, and promised this land a new beginning. And it is you who will be blamed if this should be a false start. It was you who made a promise to the magicians that their voices would be heard. That magic would be given a place in the new Camelot. Unfortunately, because of the lack of communication from the court, there have been whisperings…and questions being asked about the Court Sorcerer's sudden and unexpected death." Morgana suddenly found that she was finding it hard to control her emotions in this subject, and before they could overwhelm her, she quickly said what she had come to say.

"Just because you have lost your herald of magic, do not abandon the dream of having a peaceful kingdom where magic and non-magic can coexist peacefully. He gave his life for _me_…and I cannot accept…I refuse to accept that he died in vain!"

…The very next day, the King unexpectedly held his first meeting in the Council Chambers. Morgana was summoned to the courtroom and before all was anointed Court Sorceress, to her completely shock. Though Arthur barely met her eyes during the brief announcement, it was clear that he had awoken. There was a new flash of determination in his eyes, and a steadiness in his grasp of her hand as he held it up to the cheers of the courtiers, that told her Arthur would not accept that Merlin had died in vain either. And after that, events began to happen very fast…

The rich, flowing deep violet robes of Guinevere swept gracefully over the freshly scrubbed tiles in the Great Hall.

Today, the Great Hall was filled to the very brink. Children were placed on their parent's shoulders so they could get a clear view and every face was alight with excitement to see the coronation of their beloved Prince Arthur, the boy the kingdom had seen grow up before their very eyes…but it wasn't just for Arthur that the crowd was there. The masses had arrived to see a humble maidservant ascend to one of the very highest positions in the land…something that no one would ever have dreamed of a few years ago, but this was a new era for Camelot…and this day was a beacon for the world to show them that _anything_ was possible.

The crowd parted to allow Guinevere passageway through the centre aisle, where at the end, the presumptive King of Camelot awaited. Beside him, the trusty court physician stood somberly, in his hands a velvet cushion, upon which rested the two crowns of Camelot.

As Gwen reached the foot of the platform, she waited for her oldest friend, Morgana, who had been standing at the front of the silent crowd.

The two ladies of the court ascended the few stairs together. They made a beautiful contrast. The Queen-to-be was dressed in purple and gold, with intricate beading and embroidery sewn by the loving hands of her friends. While beside her, the dark-haired Seer of the complexion of snow was clad in a simply-cut white gown.

It was here in front of all these witnesses that the once first lady of Camelot, Lady Morgana, graciously gave way to the new lady of the court. Their positions may have changed over the years, but there was no doubt that these women shared a friendship that would endure any trials to come.

As Arthur held out his hand to help Gwen up the final stair, she felt a little nervous…even though for so long she had carried the duties of Queen. But to make it official in front of all these people? It was more than a little overwhelming. However, as she placed her palm on her growing stomach, as she often did when feeling anxious, she knew she was not alone, and she gave her husband a small smile.

The King and Queen of Camelot stood side by side and faced their kingdom. Slowly, they kneeled as the Court Sorceress gently took the freshly polished crowns from Gaius' outstretched arms and placed them on each of their heads.

"By the power bestowed upon me by your grace and that of your people, I pronounce you King and Queen of Camelot," Morgana said, her crystal-clear voice heard easily over the growing applause. "May your reign be long and glorious. May your people born both high and low live in prosperity and friendship, able to achieve anything they may set their minds to. May your dreams and ours come to fruition!"

As the King and Queen rose, the kingdom all at once knelt at their feet.

At last, Merlin's dream was complete.

* * *

"There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe,

And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law."

Arthur cleared his throat and the chatter around the round table ceased.

"Thank you, dear friends. To those that have not been here before, we welcome you to our third meeting at this table." He looked around at the knights that were representing the districts under their protection. There were also commoners present from regions of the city as well as the outlying villages to speak for their neighbours.

The large room was well lit by lanterns, and though it was a dark and dismal night outside, the atmosphere in the hall was cheery and hopeful. The round table, true to its name, was an extremely large, circular monument that had been carved out of an old, sturdy oak tree. It could seat up to fifty people at a time, though today the number was a modest twenty. Into the table, the woodcarver had etched the names of Camelot's great knights, had drawn scenes from the battle of Camlann, and had honoured Merlin and the dragon with beautiful poetry. It was a symbol of all Camelot stood for, and Arthur could not have been more proud to sit as an equal with his friends, around this masterpiece of democracy.

On Arthur's right was Queen Guinevere, and on his left was the court sorceress, Morgana le Fay. He smiled at Gwen, wanting to once again give his beloved Queen the credit whole-heartedly for this incredible feat, as well as to provide some background information to the new citizens who had joined them this week. "It was my Queen Guinevere's idea to craft a table where all are equal, where each citizen has a voice. Those new here have come at the behest of the Queen. Knights of Camelot, this has been a new initiative. As you know, in the past two weeks, we have been mostly discussing military strategy here. However, the Queen has been running town meetings this past week, in which each citizen has been able raise their concerns and by a majority vote, each town or district has put forth a candidate to represent them at the table."

Guinevere smiled shyly; her confidence in the value of her ideas had forced away any kind of fear she had felt initially in unintentionally overstepping her boundaries. She knew she was bringing a unique perspective to the table…because she had seen how the majority of ordinary citizens lived, having been one herself.

"Our usual way of conducting this meeting is by going around the table and allowing everyone a chance to speak. If you disagree with anything that has been said, please wait till your turn and you will be given a full opportunity to be heard. Please remember that the decisions taken at this table have the power to affect many lives – so let no decision be taken lightly and without due consideration that it is the correct one."

The new visitors to the table listened more intently than ever, feeling both privileged and nervous about the responsibility that had been placed on their shoulders.

Arthur smiled a little at the serious faces before bringing up the matter which he had given much thought to in the past weeks. "My concern for today involves the outlying territories and disputed lands that have been claimed, but not cared for by Cenred. I would like the knights specifically in charge of the district near to Ealdor speak about whether it is possible for Camelot to take this region under our wing. This is especially of interest to me because our late Court Sorcerer would have wanted his village to be well-looked after, and in the past, this area has been sorely neglected."

One of the new knights, Sir Sagremor, nodded solemnly. Arthur folded his hands and turned to Guinevere, as it was her turn to speak next. The others around the table too looked upon their Queen with respect for undertaking so many useful projects, even though she was due to deliver the heir to Camelot's throne any day now.

Softly, Guinevere spoke, addressing all those present. "It is my wish that any person from Camelot should be able to bring their issues directly to the King. This prevents delay in a solution being found. This is why I am glad you have all accepted the invitation to be here today, so thank you for your time." She smiled at the newcomers, and her humility made everyone present look upon her with even more affection than before. "In addition, one of my new goals is to honour the court physician, Gaius, who passed away this past month." Gwen's voice had become sad, but she continued without hesitation. "He was a dear friend of mine and of all his patients, and it is my wish that a school for healing be established in his name. Worthy students from across the lands should be trained there without incurring a cost to themselves or their families."

She paused, remembering Gaius' loyal dedication to his art and his long years of service to the court. Since Merlin's death, Gaius' health had deteriorated quickly and Gwen knew that the loss of his foster son had been the last blow to Gaius, who in his lifetime had faced so much pain and death. Gwen wanted to honour the man that had taught her so much, not just about healing, but about life with his patience and loyalty. Gwen looked across at Morgana. "Morgana, I would appreciate your help in this as well as magic plays a great part in healing, and there are many healers trained in magical arts who may want to be part of this project, and become teachers?"

Morgana nodded gravely from the other side of Arthur and some magicians around the table yelled, "Hear, hear!"

And so on it went, round and round the table...the table that would go on to become synonymous with King Arthur's rule.

* * *

"Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range.

Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change."

Arthur had his head bowed over piles of parchment but his head snapped up when the door softly creaked open. Immediately, he heard the pitter-patter of his beloved daughter's small feet as she pushed the door open further and ran into the room.

In her eagerness to see her father, she tripped over the carpet and fell face first, into the soft, well-worn rug. At once, she began to cry, more from shock than pain. In a panic, ever the protective father, Arthur jumped from the table and ran forward.

Before he could get there, Morgana, who had entered behind the toddler, had picked her up and straightened her on her feet. Arthur watched with concern as Morgana wiped away his daughter's tears and pinched her nose, causing the young girl to erupt into giggles.

Arthur smiled in relief and picked his precious daughter off the floor. From a distance, she was a miniature Guinevere, complete with bouncy, dark curls and a tanned complexion, though upon closer examination, her features were more similar to Arthur's, right down to her clear blue eyes.

Over his daughter's curly hair, he nodded to Morgana, who was regarding the father and daughter pair with a happy smile. She acknowledged his greeting with a corresponding incline of her head. Their communication had become quite efficient in the last two years, he felt.

Arthur walked around the desk, and after pointing out some clouds of different shapes through the window to the happy child in his arms, he sat down with her on his lap at his desk. The little girl immediately reached for the quill her father had been using and she began to prod at the parchment vigourously.

Arthur quickly pushed away the most important documents he had been working on, laughing. His daughter may have possessed his wife's looks, but she had inherited a streak of mischief that he was certain she got from his side of the family.

"No, Emryssa! You'll spoil your father's work," Morgana said patiently. "Why don't you tell your father where you went today?"

Unperturbed, Emryssa calmly turned the quill upon her father and drew an ink line down his cheek. Thinking that she had caused enough damage for now, Arthur gently stole the quill away.

"Dada…fishies!" Emryssa said excitedly, trying to explain to her father just how exciting her day had been. Her vocabulary had been rapidly expanding, but unfortunately for her, she was still not at the stage where she could form full sentences.

Luckily, Morgana came to her rescue. "I took her down to the fountain in the courtyard. We even saw some of the little fish," Morgana clarified. The fountain was yet another of Guinevere's initiatives in Camelot. She had seen to it that a little fountain was installed in the courtyard, where the sword in the stone had once stood, for the enjoyment of the public. Many children came each evening, especially in the summer, to play and cool off in the waters.

Morgana's arms were folded, as she took pleasure in her goddaughter's mischievousness, for now Emryssa had taken to ruffling the papers in front of her on the desk.

"That's enough, now, Emryssa," Arthur said sternly. Surprised at her father's tone, the toddler looked up at him with big eyes. Immediately, Arthur felt immensely guilty for chastising his daughter, but Gwen recently had been insisting that it would not do for Arthur to be excessively lenient with his daughter, while Gwen always had to be the firm one.

Arthur smiled at his daughter despite himself because Emryssa's surprised face was the very picture of innocence. He was grateful that Morgana had taken Emryssa outside to play as her nurses and Guinevere were busy redecorating Emryssa's nursery, which had once been Arthur's. The carpet in the nursery had been riddled with mites from disuse and the wallpaper had given off a distinct musty smell. Until now, Emryssa had occupied a cot in her parent's large chambers, but now that she was starting to sleep well throughout the duration of the night, they felt that she was ready to move into her own room.

Arthur held Emryssa tighter to him. He could not help but be protective of his daughter. The day that Emryssa was born was a blur in Arthur's mind. In the days leading to Gwen's delivery, Arthur had been worried to his stomach. The knowledge that his own mother had died during his childbirth made Arthur anxious that something might happen to Gwen unexpectedly. Fortunately, the midwife handled everything in stride and coolly informed Arthur that he was doing more damage with his anxious rambling than he was helping Gwen, and so, she politely told him to wait outside. Many long minutes later, he was allowed inside where a tired, but smiling, Gwen handed him a little bundle. When he looked upon the tiny, crinkled face with wispy curls, an emotion that he had never felt before rose up in Arthur.

From that moment on, their child meant everything to him and somehow, naming her after Merlin had helped to fill some of the void since his friend's passing. It had been Morgana who had suggested the name Emryssa as _Emrys_ was Merlin's title in the Old Religion, and he was grateful that she had somehow known that. It seemed to fit their child perfectly. Gwen and he had been arguing soon after his daughter's birth about what to name her, for Arthur had wanted to bestow the name of Merlin to honour his friend, and though Gwen appreciated his sentiment, she had thought that it was a ridiculous name for a girl…and when he had suggested Merlina, she had given him a venomous look. He had been saved by Morgana's suggestion and Arthur recalled that that was the first time in a couple of years that he had been able to genuinely smile at his foster sister.

Things between them had changed enough so that Morgana felt comfortable enough to sit on the other side of his desk now as she pulled out a roll of parchment to peruse through. Part of her position as Court Sorceress involved investigating cases of improper magic use, as here and there, a magician in the realm would use magic to give himself or herself an unfair advantage. It was strictly forbidden in the kingdom for magicians to enchant the minds of others and Morgana had received just such a report from the northern village of Carmathen. Sighing, she pulled out a quill of her own as she began to draft a letter to the village leader. She knew that she may have to make the journey to the village herself, as much of the time, the rebellious magicians would not change their ways until they saw her in the flesh, and how seriously Camelot's government took their offences.

Arthur, meanwhile, pulled out a wooden dragon toy from beneath his desk and handed it to Emryssa. With pudgy hands, she pulled it from her father's hands and as Arthur placed her down on the carpet beside him, she contently settled down to play with her toy. Taking advantage of the silence, Arthur turned back to his stacks of parchment. Where to build a new well in the city…and to whom should be entrusted the task of distributing crop to the outlying villages?

Soon, both he and Morgana were engrossed in their work. Neither of them ever spoke during these quiet afternoons, but somehow, each took great comfort in the other's presence as they grew closer in mind, if not yet in spirit.

* * *

"Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new:

That which they have done but earnest of the things that they shall do"

In had been ten years since the war, and slowly, what was once a dream was turning into reality.

Magic and non-magic folk were living peacefully side-by-side in Camelot. The Court Sorceress, of course, had played an instrumental role in overseeing that magic was reintroduced into the kingdom smoothly. Morgana had also brought the Druids back from exile and they had served a great role in the peacekeeping efforts between the magicians and other, non-magic folk. The Druids, with their great knowledge of nature, helped to teach the non-magic citizens about various herbs and gardening techniques. Similarly, the people who had lived in the kingdom their whole lives taught the magicians things that could only be learnt from experience…such as where the best land was to grow crops and where to irrigate water from for agriculture. As a result, slowly, both parties began to learn that they could learn from each other and more importantly…trust each other.

When minor skirmishes or disagreements arose, whether it was within the kingdom or with neighbouring nations, Morgana would go with Arthur's blessing to act as mediator between the two parties. At first, Arthur had rushed to resolve every complaint and disagreement in person, but as time went by, he was needed more and more to attend matters in court. Perhaps it was just as well that Arthur was so busy, for it truly allowed Morgana a chance to come into her own. It was as though Morgana was born and trained just for this role. She had an uncanny ability to determine what the root of the problem was and a kind way of seeing the situation from every party's perspective. As a result of her diplomacy and tactful guidance, many conflicts were avoided. Perhaps it was because she had the ability to See or perhaps it was just that her experience in life had taught her that people do not behave irrationally without reason…

Similarly, on the other front, lands had been uniting under Camelot's flag and slowly, the kingdom was growing. Nearby lands had seen that Camelot was flourishing under King Arthur's rule, and wanted to take advantage of this newfound prosperity. He had established laws to ensure that no one would be treated unfairly and those that chose to join Camelot's banner were not disadvantaged in any way. Instead, these smaller lands had much to gain as uniting with Camelot meant open trading boundaries and access to knowledge from scholars that resided in Camelot. There were no demands that the kings and lords of the other kingdoms had to give up their titles and claims. It was only asked by King Arthur that if a land chose to join Camelot, they had to pledge allegiance to help each other in times of need. While Arthur wanted to avoid war at all costs, occasionally he did have to ride out to battle, to protect the lives of those who were being suppressed under tyranny. And it was particularly in times like these that having allegiances with neighbouring lands was of paramount importance.

As a sign of respect, Arthur began to be called 'High King' by the other nations, though he never requested for this title of honour. After some years, when the King realized that there was no dissuading the people from addressing him as thus, he humbly vowed that he would be worthy of such a title…

They knew it not at the time, but the foundation stones for Albion were being laid.

* * *

"Then her cheek was pale and thinner than should be for one so young,

And her eyes on all my motions with a mute observance hung."

It was a relaxing afternoon for the usually busy Queen Guinevere. The drawing room was bathed in the warm glow of autumn; she leaned back in a rocking chair as she worked on knitting a warm scarf for Emryssa as winter was swiftly approaching. She was having an internal debate over which colour she should knit the Pendragon symbol in when her serenity was interrupted by a door being thrown open. Two very sweaty and grumpy faces appeared and Gwen prepared herself for the usual, predictable outburst.

Arthur threw his shield to one side of the room and it made a loud clattering sound as it hit the wall. With just as much vigour, Emryssa plopped herself into a chair directly in front of her mother, her arms crossed defiantly. Her face was drawn into a scowl that reminded Gwen of her dear husband.

This was a familiar sight to Gwen, who did not stop her knitting. She merely noted her angry husband, poring himself a glass of water, out of the corner of one eye, and internally rolled her eyes when he banged the jug down with such force that the water splashed out of the jug and onto his shirt. In front of her, she waited for her daughter to begin her tirade.

It did not take long.

"Mother, you _must_ make Father understand. I am not a child anymore! He just wants me to learn drills in the battlefield until my arms fall off…and I am not even arguing against that. It's just that between these endless drills and my tutoring…I have no time for anything else," Emryssa began fiery, her voice high-pitched and full of energy, trying to persuade her mother to agree with her.

Gwen patiently waited for her daughter to finish speaking even though this was a conversation Emryssa brought up nearly every day.

"And even if I do, I am trapped in this place! Because if I choose to leave, I am followed by guards. _Everywhere!_ Even if somebody wanted to talk to me, they are afraid their head will get chopped off!" Emryssa puffed, her stubborn jaw resembling Arthur's.

Gwen did not blink an eye. "We don't decapitate people here anymore, dear," she said, trying to placate her daughter.

Emryssa shook her head angrily and ran her hands through her curls, which had already been in disarray following her training session. They stuck out at different angles, but she didn't care. Didn't anyone see that she didn't _want_ to be a perfect princess?

Arthur, who had said nothing so far, came and stood behind Gwen's chair. In the past year or so, Arthur and Emryssa had begun to rub shoulders more and more. He did not know whether it was her age or something else…but he was frustrated that she did not understand him…that she did not see _why_ she had to learn all these things. Some in his council had suggested that if Arthur and Gwen were to have another child…a _male_ heir, _he_ should ascend to the throne ahead of Emryssa. Arthur had firmly put his foot down at this suggestion and stated that he did not think that his daughter would be any less capable than a man on the throne of Camelot. And since Gwen had not conceived any more children, the matter had been simplified somewhat. Still, Arthur knew that if there were whisperings of doubt in his council chambers, then there must be doubt outside of the kingdom too asking about whether Emryssa would be able to rule the kingdom effectively. After all, Camelot's history had recorded only one female ruler and that was Morgause…she clearly had not given the kingdom much to celebrate about.

Arthur just did not want to give anyone a chance to criticize his daughter…not now, not ever. He wanted to train her and prepare her for her future in the best way possible to ensure that no one _ever _could have any reason to complain.

_Why _couldn't she just see his perspective like a reasonable person?

Trying to remind himself of the end goal, Arthur forced his voice into a reasonable tone. "It isn't as if you don't know any people here, Emryssa. You have plenty of friends," Arthur said. "What about Galahad?" Arthur suggested, knowing that Galahad was one of Emryssa's training partners during sword fighting. Truth be told, Arthur was quite pleased with Lancelot and Elaine's son, who was very close to Emryssa in age. Much to the surprise of no one, Lancelot and Elaine had quietly wed a few weeks after the end of the Great War and shortly after, Galahad had been born. The two children from a young age had spent lots of time together, but unlike Emryssa, Galahad had been the most obedient, well-behaved young toddler imaginable. At present, he had just begun to serve as a squire and he seemed to be a reliable, noble lad to Arthur…exactly the type of friend he wanted for his headstrong daughter.

"Galahad," Emryssa said through gritted teeth. "Could you _find_ a more boring person for me to spend time with? I have never seen anyone adhere to the rulebooks as if their life depends on it. He follows me _everywhere_…" She cast her father a suspicious look. "And I know that _you_ are behind it."

"I'm just trying to protect you, Emryssa," Arthur replied, feeling slightly guilty that he had also asked Galahad to keep an eye on Emryssa. Of course, Emryssa had a guard who accompanied her into the town, just as a precaution, but recently Emryssa had taken to giving the poor guard, Ector, the slip and taking off own her own…this was why Arthur had recruited Galahad in the first place. Arthur did not know that Galahad had taken his King's words to heart and had followed his duties very seriously, following his charge everywhere she went, even while she wandered within the safety of the castle.

"That's _not_ the point," Emryssa retorted. She turned to her mother for support. "Can you just speak with him? You grew up without being followed every minute. And you turned out fine! Aunt Morgana told me that if I want to help people like _she_ does, I have to first understand and experience the joys and suffering of _all _the people…not just the castle people. I want to learn about _magic_ and dragons…and spells." Emryssa's face was flushed and she was breathless, the prospect of magic had always entranced her. "You said you named me after Merlin, and I bet if _he _was alive, he would have been on my side. Just like Aunt Morgana is," she finished.

Arthur tried to force his voice over her angry outburst. "But you are _not_ going to be Morgana. You are my heir…and so, you must learn what you need to so you can take _my_ place! I don't want people to say I made you heir to the throne simply because you are my daughter! I want people to say I made you heir because _you were worthy._ Birth is not everything Emryssa – actions and choices tell where your character truly lies. There are responsibilities, my child, that you cannot run from. It doesn't mean that you are not still helping people." His voice softened somewhat, having expressed his inner fears to her, hoping that she would gain some perspective.

Grinding her teeth, Emryssa fumed in anger. She felt that his way of helping did not seem to be doing much…reading papers and running meetings! While Morgana…she had journeyed through the kingdom, and when she returned, what great stories she had! She would spend nights with the poor, sleeping in a hay stable…she offered her cloak to the cold, down-trodden people and shared her food with hungry mouths. _That_ was helping people – that was how Emryssa wanted to be! Not some high-born on a throne with a glittering crown, doling laws out that everyone had to follow.

Enraged at her father, at her mother, and at the position she was born into, she yelled back, "But I don't want to be like you!" With that, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Arthur sighed and dropped into the chair that Emryssa had just vacated. He knew that his daughter was young and being stubborn, but his face plainly showed his hurt at her words.

"Don't worry, Arthur," Gwen said reassuringly, reaching over to pat her husband's arm. "I am sure you felt like this too when you were growing up." Guinevere had the sense to know that this was a phase that Emryssa was passing through, but her husband…he didn't understand that and he was now looking desolately at the carpet. For the hundredth time, Gwen repeated her advice to Arthur. "Maybe you should give her a little more freedom. She _is_ almost fifteen now and she does have the skills to defend herself."

Arthur said nothing, knowing that Gwen was right. Yet, he could not just let her do whatever she wanted and give her free reign…it was better if she was angry with him as long as she was safe…because the alternative was just too painful. And perhaps in time she would understand why he set such high standards for her.

They were the same standards he held himself to.

* * *

"Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands;

Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands."

Morgana le Fay lay back in the grass, breathing in the heady scent of the magical shrubs that grew around the lake of Avalon. She came here often, sometimes to be alone…sometimes to _not_ be alone. The grass prickled her arms, but she didn't move, still staring at the blue sky which was sprinkled with clouds here and there.

She knew Arthur came here as well, but she had never crossed paths with him, and for that she was grateful. This was a place that she came to think and just _be_, and running into Arthur at this sacred place…her stomach flopped uncomfortably. Though the distance between them had closed somewhat, Merlin's death was still a subject they steered clear of. She was never completely certain of what he thought of her in relation to Merlin's death and a part of her did not want to ever find out…because if he blamed her for it…she didn't think that she could stand it. Their relationship was finally on the mend and for now, that was enough for her.

This place did strange things to her. Occasionally, she felt comforted by coming here and at other times, more restless than before. Sometimes, the water lapping up at the shore on some days taunted at her that they had claimed Merlin while she was still here…still alone. Other days, the water exuded a presence she felt had to be Merlin's and that enveloped her into a peaceful calm.

As she twirled a strand of her hair, she smiled blissfully up at the sky.

Today was different…because today, she had not come empty-handed. From her robes, she pulled out the crystal which had given her life…and her magic back. For so many years, she had kept the crystal safe…out of her sight, but never out of her mind.

She shrugged off her outer robes and sat up, holding the crystal in her palm. It glittered innocently in the light, the instrument that had caused so much suffering and pain…but along with those tragic stories, it was also a symbol of victory, for it was the tool that had tipped the scales in the favour of Arthur.

As she peered into the crystal, she acknowledged that it had always symbolized to her the power of bringing _him_ back. She had almost fooled herself for years that she could…if only she had learnt to wield the power of the crystal. The idea that he could always come back had fuelled her in the beginning and she had felt that if she only did what he asked of her, that there would be no doubt of his return.

But she would fool herself no longer…as long as she held onto a shred of hope, she could never fully start living for _herself_…

Aloud, to herself, she said with a certain kind of finality, "He is never coming back."

There…she had said it. And, finally…_finally_…she admitted a truth that was long due. It was as if a huge weight fell off her shoulders and she breathed deeply in relief. This had been a long time coming, but she had been afraid to let go…because that would be saying goodbye for the last time.

Over the years, there had been reminders of him everywhere. Just today, in court, she had glimpsed into the crowd and saw a tall, dark-haired man with streaks of grey in his hair and fine lines around his eyes as he smiled at her. For a moment she had been convinced that it was him, but her hopes had been shattered yet again. That had been the final straw…she vowed in that moment that she would do it…today. She resolved to no longer hold onto the crystal…for she could not stand feeling the disappointment yet again.

With determination and a surge of energy, she stood up and flung the crystal into the water as hard as she could. She could barely make out where it landed, the splash in the water was hardly visible from where she was standing. But she knew this was the right thing to do…though she had protected the crystal for all these years, there was always a fear that it would pass into the wrong hands. And now, it was gone…just like Merlin was…to a land where she could not follow…at least, not yet…

Panting, not from the effort of throwing the crystal, but from the rush of adrenaline that came with suddenly taking control of her life for the first time, she felt free. She was no longer bound to the responsibilities because _he _had told her to. She wanted to do it…she _wanted_ to help Arthur succeed for her own sake.

There would always be an empty space at court…and in her heart that no one could fill. But she had now learnt to live with that emptiness; she was no longer trying to fill his shoes in court with her presence…and nor was she trying to fill the void in her own heart with a crystal.

* * *

"Yet I doubt not thro' the ages one increasing purpose runs,

And the thoughts of men are widen'd with the process of the suns."

The round table was noisier than it had ever been before. The table was filled to its full capacity and some were on their feet, trying to make their voices heard.

Impatiently, Arthur banged his fist on the table to silence everyone. He raised his hands as everyone calmed down, and turned to their King, knowing that in all these years, he had never led them astray.

"I know what Sir Galahad has related to us is a shock," Arthur said to the worried faces. "It is unacceptable that Gendrel has invaded the lands of our good friend King Bayard and has besieged his kingdom and taken Bayard captive. Mercia has long been our ally and ever since the joining of our kingdoms, has been one of our most dependable friends."

The people around the table nodded earnestly. It had been grave news indeed to hear that Bayard's lands had been taken over. There had been many years of peace in Camelot and the prospect of entering into war _now_ to protect one of their allies was a frightening and foreign one.

"I am outraged that Gendrel would think Mercia so weak and unprotected that he could overpower them so easily and cause so much suffering to their peaceful land without provocation," Arthur said loudly, emphasizing that though Camelot had been understanding, it would stand for injustice.

Everyone at the table nodded and began to speak again all at once, enthused by their leader's words.

"At least we are in agreement that something needs to be done," Arthur said over the din, in a voice that was commanding, and yet in control.

On his right, however, Gwen looked anxious, afraid of what the verdict would be for her own selfish reasons. She had been feeling light-headed all day and could not help but feeling that it was a bad omen. She was not as young as she used to be, and she was not sure whether or not she would be able to face yet another trial of war.

Emryssa sat by her mother, new to the proceedings at her father's request, and noting her mother's pale face, she took her hand under the table comfortingly. Her mother looked into her eyes and tried to give her a small smile, but Emryssa could see tears swimming in her eyes. As a Queen, Gwen had to put on a brave front and she steadied herself by closing her eyes and taking a deep breath - when she turned back to face the table, her eyes were clear and her face impassive.

While everyone was clamoring to speak, Sir Galahad folded his arms and leaned back, patiently waiting for his King's order. He had grown into a handsome, thoughtful young man – with dark locks of hair and brown eyes, there was no doubt that he was Lancelot's son.

"Silence," Arthur said in a powerful voice. "We will not get anywhere if we not give each other a chance to speak." He turned to the young knight. "Galahad, you have been in this outpost near Mercia for nearly two years now. Speak freely."

Lancelot sat two seats down from his son and the now grey-haired knight looked proudly at his son. To him, it was as though Galahad embodied the hopes of a new generation where knights were made not by birth, but by deed.

"Your majesty," Galahad began in a soft voice. "I think it is appalling that Gendrel has dishonored you as High King. Out of his own jealousy for the power that you have gained through friendship, he has caused devastation to an entire kingdom." Galahad had seen the citizens of Mercia during his outpost; the few that he had run into had precious little food, for Gendrel was rerouting all supplies to the capital city, for his own men. "Everywhere I traveled, people called out to me, begging for aid. I think there is only one choice. We must gather an army and ride upon Mercia," Galahad finished, now more sure of himself, upon seeing the proud face of his father nod in agreement.

At once, everyone erupted in speech. War! It was an alarming concept during these peaceful times.

Galahad stood up, trying to relay to the others that he did not want to rush into war, but only to defend the basic rights of the people of Mercia. "Please…let me finish. Perhaps we may still be able to avoid war, and it is my sincere hope that will be the case, but we should have an army…as an option to protect the people of Mercia…and _our_ people should our talks with Gendrel be misunderstood and he turns his sights to Camelot."

The young son of Lancelot's was one of the finest that had been knighted in recent years, but he had never seen war himself…only heard the stories of the Great War from his mother at bedtime, but that had been enough for him to know that war was not a platform for seeking glory or fame…there was nothing heroic about rushing off to battle and leaving one's family in doubt and despair. This was why, to Galahad, Arthur was a true hero, because he only went to war for the sake of others…to protect and defend, never on the offensive…and the number of battles Arthur had avoided by diplomacy…why, this was truly what embodied knighthood in Galahad's eyes.

"True, Galahad," the King agreed. He turned and looked around the table at the solemn faces that were beginning to register the weight of the King's words. "Begin to gather men from all districts. We will first send a small envoy and try to appease Gendrel." Arthur paused before saying, "If not…we will have to resort to war."

At Arthur's side, Gwen shuddered involuntary while Emryssa silently observed the goings-on, not sure what to make of either her old training partner's well-spoken account of events or her father's decision.

But, to Gwen this was a familiar feeling…a feeling she felt more than fifteen years ago and she not could help but think that the amassing of an army would surely mean war. She was concerned for the people of Mercia, yes, but…she turned to Arthur. For the first time, she saw just how many wrinkles he had and how his hair was now more grey than blond. He was barely forty years of age now, but the stresses of running a kingdom had taken a toll on him. He was not getting any younger…how much more could he take? Gwen did not think that she would be able to bear to find out the answer to that question.

"Arthur, please…" she said softly so no one else at the table would hear.

"Gwen, you know that I would wish for any other way…but if people are starving and dying, I will not turn a blind eye," Arthur said gently, staring straight ahead, not meeting her eyes.

Gwen said nothing but with pleading eyes, she tried to convey her foreboding. Something was telling her that Arthur should not go…that he should stay with her.

* * *

"I remember one that perish'd: sweetly did she speak and move:

Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was to love."

Arthur could not stand the silence…the cold, unpersonal feeling of the quiet. The finality of it. It reminded him that he was alone.

A few months ago, the primary concern of Arthur's life had revolved around Gendrel and the potential war. Fortunately for his kingdom and Camelot, _that _issue had been avoided and Gendrel had negotiated his terms with Arthur. Instead, it was the unexpected news that Arthur had had to face upon return that rendered him lost. He had been dealt a blow that was far worse than he could have ever imagined.

Arthur sat with his head in his hands as he did now many evenings. The room was dark and the shadow of the round table could barely be seen. Why he came here night after night he did not know, but this was where he felt her presence most strongly because she had been _instrumental_ in creating this table…and what the table stood for represented everything in Camelot.

Now, it was not she who sat beside him, but a single rose upon the table at Guinevere's place symbolizing her presence…that she would always be there in spirit.

It was a small comfort to Arthur…not to feel her warmth, not to smell her scent…not to hear her voice…how could a single rose compete with the memory of his love?

Arthur would continue to blame himself no matter what anyone had told him…for _so _many reasons.

_They hadn't thought it possible…considering that she was nearing forty. But there were strange symptoms…and finally Gwen went to the court physician. _

_When the court physician informed her of the reason for her vague symptoms, she was elated. Later that night, when, in the privacy of their chamber she told Arthur that she was pregnant once again, he had felt extremely surprised and happy…but there was also a shadow of trepidation. Her being older presented with obvious problems and she admitted that even the court healer had said that it was rare for someone her age to deliver a baby…but it was not unheard of. It was possible…but the situation simply presented with more dangers. _

_While Arthur had been battling nightmares from then on, Gwen was overjoyed and showed no signs of concern. She cut back slightly on her royal duties, but still heard none of the warnings of her physician, of Morgana, of Arthur, telling her to rest more and work less…until six months into the pregnancy when she started feeling more and more weak. She was confined to her bed from then on and Morgana spent day and night with her, caring for her every need and giving her news from the outside world. Often, late into the night, a light could be seen flickering in the Queen's chambers where Morgana would be poring over Gaius' old medicinal books, trying to find a spell to help Gwen. _

_Meanwhile, all of Guinevere's social causes and castle duties were completely being handled by Emryssa, who was confused by what was going on around her. Whether to be joyous in anticipation of a younger brother or sister with whom she could share her life…or to succumb to the doubt, that clearly her father and her godmother had become party to, whether they wished her to know it, or not. She was unsure of what would be expected of her once the sibling was born…but more than that, she was worried her mother's health. She had the sense to know that her mother was far more ill than anyone let on, but no one had wanted to divulge the details and for the first time in her life, instead of being defiant and making life difficult for those around her, she accepted the situation and went about her duties responsibly. _

_With each passing day, Arthur became more and more terrified, but he tried to shield his daughter from his fears and told Morgana to do the same. The Court Sorceress followed her foster brother's orders against her better judgement…Morgana did not understand how protecting Emryssa at this moment would make anything easier in the long term, but she went along with Arthur, because her mind was too clouded by worry for Gwen. She tried to See into the future for Gwen, but her inner sight was hazy…she reasoned correctly that it was likely because she was too involved in this matter to use her Seer abilities properly. _

_That was when news had arrived from Mercia that Gendrel refused to speak with any envoys except the King of Camelot. Arthur was torn – if he refused to go, Gendrel could potentially unleash war upon his kingdom and cause pain and suffering for thousands…but his heart did not listen to his mind…for its every beat was focused on Guinevere's struggles. _

_But that evening when he went to speak with Gwen, he found her to be in much better spirits than she had been in the past weeks. She was even sitting up and some colour had returned to her cheeks. She and Morgana were laughing about an old joke…something about how Arthur had been a prat in his youth…_

…_She told him to go to Mercia. She reasoned that Gendrel was willing to meet with Arthur and therefore, he too, must want to avoid war. If he didn't go, it would be seen as an outright act of disrespect. Besides, she had told him that she was feeling much better that day and Mercia was so closeby that he would never be more than a day's ride away…as Arthur's silhouette disappeared from her chambers, Gwen wondered whether she had done the right thing. It was true that her body felt better than it had in weeks, but her mind was still heavy. Yet, she had decided that she would never be able to live with herself if a war had been started on her account and so had done what any good Queen would do…chosen her peoples over herself…_

_Arthur rode away with a heavy heart. Many hours and long meetings later, Arthur resolved the issues with Gendrel. Though Arthur had to concede some of his borders to prevent war, Gendrel was willing to leave Mercia and return to his northern lands. For Arthur, this was enough and he hurriedly drafted the treaty and signed it. _

_The following morning, Arthur made his way back to Camelot when the messenger intercepted them. He knew that the news was bad the moment he saw his face. The King rode home in a haze, returning to find Emryssa and Morgana sobbing…_

…_His beautiful and much loved wife, lay peaceful and serenely on her bed_

_In years to come, Arthur would regret that he had not been there for her when it happened…he could never forgive himself. _

_Arthur didn't know exactly what had happened for many days after, though Morgana had tried to explain how his wife had gone into labour early…too early. And there was nothing anybody could have done…neither the child nor the mother had been able to survive. _

_The court in Camelot declared a month of mourning across all the lands, and in the thousands the citizens of Camelot came to pay their respects to their much beloved Queen. Night after night for an entire week, they held vigil in the courtyard, with their candles lit. Prayers and good wishes were offered to the High King from all of his lands, but Arthur could not register any of it. For all that mattered was that Gwen was gone…_

_When the state funeral was held, there was a large procession as a casket was carried into the royal crypts where Queen Guinevere would be laid to rest…but three people knew that the coffin was empty, and would remain empty…_

_The three of them, Arthur, Emryssa and Morgana, had taken Gwen to the one place where they knew that she would be greeted in the next world by a friend, the afternoon before the state funeral. It had been Morgana's suggestion and she gently stated that Gwen would want to be with her loved ones, not in some cold crypt amongst lords and ladies that she neither knew nor cared for. _

_They had taken her to Avalon and with her stillborn child wrapped lovingly in a blanket beside her, the Queen of Camelot was bid farewell on a barge, flowers in her hair and hands folded across her chest… _

Arthur was lost in thoughts, recalling the image of Gwen floating away when his reverie was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. He sighed and lifted his head up, wiping away the wetness from his face before anyone could find him here, grieving openly. He knew he did not have that luxury.

Emryssa came in without waiting for permission. She had demonstrated more strength in these few months than Arthur had ever given her credit for. She had been his rock, taking on his duties along with those of her late mother's and he had heard not one word of reproach from her lips even though she was barely eighteen.

"I thought I might find you here," she said, a sad smile playing on her lips.

She approached her father, who seemed to have aged decades in these past months, and instead of sitting at her usual spot at the round table, she sat beside Arthur in the position that her mother usually had occupied.

"Today, Aunt Morgana and I went to visit the healing school," she said when Arthur said nothing to her. Trying to engage him in conversation, she continued, "It has now been running for fifteen years and all the students were saying how grateful they were to the Queen for establishing this free school for them."

Arthur nodded, but his face was still drawn and expressionless. So much good his Gwen had done for others…and he had not been there for her when she needed him most…

Emryssa persisted, wanting to pull her father out of his abyss. She missed her mother more than she could say, but Morgana had given her strength and wisdom to guide her with her duties because she knew now that without her father's leadership…the kingdom would fall into ruin and she would _not _let that happen. For all those that had died for this nation, she would stay strong. It fell upon her shoulders to take up her father's mantle while he grieved for his wife, and on her watch, she would ensure that her father had a kingdom to rule when he was able to take on the responsibility again. At long last, she had realized that the idea that her parents and Morgana…and even Merlin had dreamed of was much bigger than just her as an individual. With the good gifts she had to enjoy, there would be many, many things that she did not like about being a ruler, but she _would_ do it…for her mother's sake. For all their sakes.

Gently, she reached for the rose on the table and handed it to her father hesitantly.

He took it from her curiously and slowly met her gaze and was surprised to find determination blazing in her eyes.

"Mother would have wanted you to keep living, not lose yourself," she said clearly, showing wisdom beyond her years.

As Arthur looked into her face, he realized that Gwen was still very much with him in the voice of his daughter.

* * *

"Till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battle-flags were furl'd

In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world."

The fourth annual celebration for the meeting of the leaders was underway. It had been two years since the last kingdom on the Isle had joined Camelot and now, the entire Isle was under one banner…

Albion.

As High King, Arthur had presided over the ceremony over the past three years but this time, it was Emryssa who took the lead. She carried herself with grace and quiet authority as she chaired the various council meetings and dinner processions. Even the toughest and most intimidating of lords bowed their heads to her and treated her with respect.

Arthur realized that she was truly ready for the responsibility of a kingdom, and he felt an enormous sense of relief. Next to her, he noted that the next generation had fully come of age and young knights Sir Bors, Sir Geraint and Sir Galahad were laughing heartily as Emryssa had excused herself from the High Table to join the knights. They began to retell a humourous tale to her and she too burst into peals of laughter.

Utterly relaxed, Arthur took a swig of his ale and smiled contently at the youngsters. He caught Lancelot's eye from across the room and the aged knight raised his glass towards the youth as if to give them a toast. The King joined in, knowing that his most trusted knight was thinking exactly what he was thinking…

_Our time has passed us by…it was _their_ time now…_

* * *

"Make me feel the wild pulsation that I felt before the strife,

When I heard my days before me, and the tumult of my life"

Arthur leaned on Morgana as she helped him to a nearby bench. They had been strolling in the Royal Gardens when Arthur's knee, which had been troubling him for years, began to ache again.

As Arthur slowly lowered his weight onto the bench, he began to laugh. She laughed too, not knowing why. It was a joyous thing to laugh together as they had in their childhood without any cares.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Arthur said, "No one would believe any of the stories of my heroic deeds if they saw me now. I once fought a dragon, you know, Morgana!"

"The dragon was no match compared to me," she replied smiling, a trace of cheekiness in her response. "You could never beat me."

Arthur chuckled, acknowledging the truth of her words at long last with a pat of her shoulder.

They sat silently, happy in each other's presence, taking in the scent of the fresh blooms all around them.

Neither could have ever predicted that they would one day start to laugh again together, but time had a funny way of healing wounds. Especially since Gwen's death, they had only each other to depend on, for Arthur did not want to burden young Emryssa's mind with his sorrow. And Morgana knew that no one but Arthur could understand her losses. For so long, Morgana had been alone…she had never married, never even tried to find someone to share her life with, knowing that she just did not have the capacity to give herself to someone fully…and she, above everyone, knew how Arthur felt after Gwen's passing. They were united in their loneliness.

The blame, the resentment, the guilt…all those feelings had washed away between the pair and now they were able to see each other with clear minds.

"Arthur…" Morgana ventured hesitantly, interrupting the comfortable silence. "Maybe it is time for us to stop thinking about our youth and start thinking about Emryssa," said Morgana, a little reluctant to bring up a taboo topic.

"What about her?" Arthur asked quickly. He had been playing with some flower stems, from the bushes behind them absent-mindedly, and now dropped them, turning to face her.

"Arthur, are you blind?" Morgana asked exasperated. She had hoped that Arthur would have discovered himself what she was about to tell him, but as always, her foster brother was as unobservant as a rock when it came to certain matters. And Emryssa, no matter how much she had grown, she was still wary of her father's response when it came to this particular area of her personal life, and so, she had begged Morgana to break the news to Arthur on her behalf.

"She is a fully grown woman now," Morgana said patiently. "And she has her own hopes and dreams…of which a very important part is a certain young man."

Arthur sat up very straight, alert, resembling his old warrior self. "Who?" he asked sharply. "What do you mean? Why didn't she tell _me_ first?" he added at the end, slightly hurt that his daughter would not openly share her heart's content with him.

"Probably because she knew you would react like you are doing now," Morgana said bluntly. "Anyway, you have nothing to worry about. Galahad is a wonderful man…and I am sure he will make a wonderful consort to the future Queen one day."

"GALAHAD!" Arthur bellowed, trying to jump up to his feet, but his knee hindered his progress and he gingerly sat back down. He was quiet for a few moments and then added in a slightly confused voice, "But she doesn't even like him!"

"Arthur," Morgana said calmly. "That was _years_ ago."

More than anything, Arthur was shocked by this new information. He racked his mind to remember any conversation where his daughter brought up the young knight, but he could only recall the one where she had informed him that Galahad was _boring_. But as he thought more about it, he realized that in recent years, since Galahad's return from his outpost near Mercia, he _had_ seen Emryssa in the presence of the knight more frequently. Once or twice he had seen them sparring in the training grounds…but they had been training partners in their youth after all. And another time, he had seen them, their heads bent in conversation at the Round Table…but, Galahad was an intelligent knight and he was no doubt just sharing his strategic plans for defense with her. And there was another instance, where he had seen them walking in the hallways after dinner and she was laughing at something that he said…but…but, he was probably just sharing a funny story about Sir Geraint, who was known to be a prankster…but even the mighty King Arthur was running out of excuses…

After long moments of considering Morgana's words, Arthur had to wonder whether he _had_ been slower on the uptake than usual this time…but if truth be told, Arthur had a very hard time finding something wrong with Galahad…apart from the fact that his daughter seemed to have taken a liking to him, of course. Galahad was noble…always stayed true to his word and he worked hard at training and never missed a practice session. He took great care of his younger siblings and never neglected to send his mother flowers on her birthday. Arthur could not for the life of him say how he knew these things about Lancelot…but then remembered that Gwen would relay all this information to him through Elaine, who bragged to Gwen endlessly about her eldest son. He smiled sadly as he thought of Gwen, knowing that she would have been ecstatic at this news.

Finally, Arthur had to admit to himself, that Galahad was not the _worst _prospect in the world for Emryssa. He vowed that before the week's end, he would summon Galahad to his chambers and have a word with him about his precious daughter.

Jokingly, he said to Morgana, "I knew I should never have trusted a son of Lancelot."

With a hint of relief, Morgana laughed, knowing that Arthur had taken the first step towards giving his approval. She playfully punched him.

There was another long silence and this time it was Arthur who broke it. "If I am being honest, Morgana, knowing that she will have a…good partner puts my mind at ease," Arthur said solemnly, finding that it was becoming easier by the minute to admit that Galahad was a quite a nice lad really.

"Emryssa will be glad to hear you say that," Morgana said sincerely. She was already looking forward to relaying the news to her goddaughter, whom she knew had spent many restless nights worrying about her father's reaction…perhaps the poor girl had irrationally imagining her protective father ordering the exile of her beloved. But now, Morgana would be able to put her mind at ease…

Arthur spoke again, this time serious, his voice low. "I know my time is coming, Morgana. Since Gwen's passing…I have been thinking more and more…about Merlin's death too and my own."

Morgana stiffened, wondering whether Arthur still blamed her for Merlin's death. They never spoke about it, but Arthur's next words at long last freed Morgana from the last shred of guilt that she had tied herself to for so long.

"No, Morgana," Arthur said as if he could read her mind. "You have done more for me than I could have ever deserved. It is simply the fundamental truth for any life that anyone who is born must die one day." He took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check as he said to his beloved foster sister. "I only wish that whatever precious time remains for me, I may spend with you happily as recompense for the time we never spent."

Without a word, Morgana took his hand into both of hers, and laid her cheek against it. A single tear flowed down her cheek.

* * *

"Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and he bears a laden breast,

Full of sad experience, moving toward the stillness of his rest."

Two women stood on the banks of Avalon. One was hunched over, old and weary, while one stood tall, young and vibrant. They held each other, the older woman with both arms around the younger one, while the younger gripped her father's old sword with one hand.

Their wet eyes were on the barge that was carrying away their most precious King.

Morgana and Emryssa watched the sun set on the horizon and as the fading rays of light, cast the lake in hues of gold and green, they could not have imagined a more beautiful farewell scene for King Arthur.

The old barge was crafted from pieces of the old round table. Arthur was wearing chainmail, which Emryssa had painstakingly polished herself. Around his shoulders was his favourite scarlet cloak, and the colour of Camelot was emblazoned on his shield, which he held to his chest. The crown on his head glinted in the fading sunlight and his only other ornament was the wedding band, now worn with age and covered in scratches. It had been his single most cherished possession after Excalibur and while the sword remained with his daughter, it had been the King's wish to take the only remnant of his wife with him…to the other world, where he hoped to meet her once again.

The sun set, fully marking the end of a golden age for Camelot.

The barge disappeared from view and Morgana and Emryssa were left in the growing darkness. They had to make their way back to Camelot soon or people would begin to start asking questions about the new Queen's whereabouts.

Morgana, however, was rooted to the spot, lost in her thoughts. Somehow she had known that she would be the last one of the four to remain. But she wasn't disheartened by this…one day, she too would make the journey through the gateway of Avalon and meet them again…they would wait for her, she knew this now with certainty.

In the meantime, she would watch over their dream with utmost care, as it was entrusted to and moved into the hands of a new Queen.

More to herself than Emryssa, she spoke, in the voice of a Seer that sounded as though from faraway. "Arthur goes to the everlasting lands where he will dwell until Albion calleth for a great King. Then, he will return…we all will."

"Rex quondam, rexque futurus. The once and future King."

"Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore,

And the individual withers, and the world is more and more."

* * *

___A/N: _Well, folks…what can more can we say? Everything that needs to be said has been said, and the last page of the book (figuratively speaking) has been turned. We can now finally say that this is, in fact, the end. It has been a long journey, and for those of you who have stuck with us from the very beginning, we would like to thank you from the bottom of our hearts. Your support and appreciation has kept us going these last two and a half years. As most of you know, we are not seasoned fanfiction writers. This was just a show we fell in love with and this was a story that came to us in an "aha!" moment while we were traveling through France. A series of fortunate coincidences, if you will. It is doubtful whether we will ever write any sequels or prequels to this story…or if we will ever write any stories at all in the future. So, when we say that this has been a once in a lifetime experience…we really do mean it!

_If even one of you enjoyed reading this story half as much as we enjoyed writing it, then we consider it quite a success! It has honestly been a pleasure to write these characters and watch them grow in ways that sometimes was even a surprise to us!_

_Finally, I would like to take a moment to thank my other side of the coin – there is truly no one else in the universe I would rather have shared this experience with! No, not even Colin Morgan himself…and that is saying something, my friend. Though, I am sad that this adventure is over, I am certain that we will have many more. As the greatest doctor of them all (Dr. Seuss) said: "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." And I will smile fondly whenever I think of 'our' story…and I hope that you will too._

_That is all from us, everyone! Thanks for reading…and remember keep the magic secret :)_

_P.S. - If anyone was wondering, the quotes we used to start off each section of the epilogue were from Alfred, Lord Tennyson's 'Locksley Hall'._

* * *

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you."


End file.
